


The First Shifting Grain

by CADEL



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU - Freeform, Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Desert, Family Drama, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gaara goes back in time, Gen, Illustrated, Jinchuuriki - Freeform, Misunderstandings, OC, One-Tails, Politics, Redemption, Sabaku No Gaara - Freeform, Sand Siblings-centric, Shukaku - freeform, Slow Build, Suna Village, Thriller, Time Travel, Wind Country, demon, warfare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 79,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4224750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CADEL/pseuds/CADEL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabaku no Gaara lands in the past to a time where everyone fears him and his father is still alive. He realises regaining everyone's trust will be difficult, especially when they still think he's a blood-thirsty psychopath. </p><p>Time Travel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

There was a very distinct feeling of gravitational confusion.

A strange mixture of pulsing vibrations and stagnant molecules in the air left the world feeling chaotic but still at the same time. A small conscious thought seemed to flicker through the hazy darkness of the young Kazekage's mind.

Everything felt wrong.

Gaara didn't know whether he was lying down, standing up, underwater or falling from the sky. It could have been any of those things – all of those things. Situational unawareness and sensory deprivation. His body was immobile.

He could feel the burning though. It ran through his tissues and tendons, unforgivingly cold instead of hot. When he tried to sit up, his muscles refused his command and he spent the next few moments contemplating which way was _up._ It was oddly hard to discern. There was cold wind brushing against his face and the front of his body, so it was likely he was lying on his back. _Get up._

With almost irritatingly amount of effort, Gaara commanded his eyes to slowly crack open. It was like wrenching bolted doors open, heavy and painful.

He was welcomed with darkness.

Open or closed, his eyes continued to see that same black. For a few stressing moments, the young Kazekage started to deliberate if he had been rendered blind. He blinked once, twice, three times and slowly the black void began to pale. Suddenly he could see an inky dark blue above.

There were small specks of glittering lights, like fireflies swimming in the sky.

_Stars._

His senses began to awaken and suddenly a cacophony of scents swirled around him, blanketing his previous blindness in too much colour, too much sound and it was all so familiar...

Gaara jolted his muscles and sat up. He used every ounce of control he mastered over many years to not fall back down from the wave of heavy nausea that accompanied his sudden movement. After accomplishing the arduous task of beating away his vertigo with a stick, Gaara finally took in his surrounding with an almost disbelieving euphoria.

He could feel sand under his palms, grating softly against his flesh and he could feel the grains under his shirt and in his hair. The abrasions were a comfort, a throwback to home.

A home that should have been terrorized by war – crumbling and held together by dwindling hope and clay hearts.

A home that should have been gone but now glimmered like a mirage in the desert backdrop.

Being a shinobi meant that Gaara was seldom ever overwhelmed to the point of distraction, but for the first time in a long time, he was finding it hard to _breathe_ from pure, unadulterated confusion.

The once decaying village of Sunagakure was standing fully erect and very much _there_.

No marching horns, no broken weapons left in the sands, no war banners.

The chalky ochre tones of the high outer walls that encased the village of the sand remained intact unlike the last time Gaara had seen them. The light from houses and shops illuminated a dim yellow glow into the sky from behind the walls. There was even a faint scent of food that danced in the air.

The young ninja was by now on his knees as he propped himself against a near-by boulder, his eyes never leaving the homesick sight before him. He must have been about thirty meters outside of the outer walls - how he got there he would never know. But whether this was a genjutsu or just a delusion created in his war-torn mind, he did not ignore his instincts. And Gaara's instincts were telling him that this was his home.

_But the war…_

He pushed himself on his feet with an audible exertion that seemed fated for him to just fall back again, but Gaara took one painful step after another. The lone figure hobbled slowly to the village lights that seemed to attract every ounce of his attention leaving no room for any other thought.

He just wanted to reach the wall...regardless of whether it was real or not.

Perhaps it was his half exhausted, half deluded state but the little ninja trudged on despite how difficult his breathing had become. He was about fifteen meters or so to the wall when he heard a voice call out - what they said was lost on him. Gaara stretched out his hands, reaching. The voices became louder in her ears and the sound of crunching sand beneath feet approached him.

Suffocating exhaustion infested his limbs and his body stopped responding.

Just as he heard more distinct voices, Gaara collapsed.

The panicked voices disappeared and were replaced by a demonic grumbling echoing ominously in the darkest corner of his mind.

It was a cold whisper, a voice so familiar that Gaara could not mistake it for anything else.

But before he could fight back, before he could resist...strangled sleep overcame him.

III

Kima picked his nose as he gazed out into the desert, counting down the moments till his patrol shift was over.

The young man was a dedicated shinobi but today he was feeling exhausted from lack of sleep. Keeping up with his new born daughter required more endurance than any training the new father had to endure.

Tantalizing thoughts of a soft pillows and firm beds were cut short when his eyes locked onto something in the distance.

The horizon line was disrupted by a dark mass slowly approaching the village. It was a slow trudge that suppressed immediate alarm but something in Kima's gut told him that there was something wrong.

He directed his lamp higher till it shone down dimly at the approaching figure. "Hey, who goes there?"

No answer except the soft crunch of grains slowly moving towards him. His call out attracted the attention of three other gate guards who stood near him.

"Is that...?" one ninja began.

Kima's eyes widened as a nest of russet hair appeared from the dessert night. Something was familiar about…

His eye’s widened.

“It’s the jinchuuriki!” He blurted out in alarm.

They all leaned forward to get a better look and indeed it was the vessel heading towards them. His fellow patrol men stood awkwardly, unsure how to read the situation. Was is safe or was it a prelude to a potential disaster?

After a moment, three ninjas jumped down and approached the young jinchuuriki with palpable apprehension. By now Kima could see the Kazekage's son more clearly and the obvious limp was now more pronounced.

The boy raised his hand out stretched, as if reaching to them and then with no warning, suddenly collapsed.

The jounin next to him suddenly swore and began calling out to the three shinobi who went down earlier.

"Come back!" he yelled. “Get back behind the wall!”

A chill crawled down his spine and pooled itself in his stomach as his fellow shinobi began to bark out orders to flee.

The jinchuuriki was unconscious.

The three shinobi began to run.

_“Hurry!”_

It was only a moment later when Kima's blood ran cold in his veins.

A palpable, oppressive weight washed over him, digging and burning into his bones like hot fish hooks. His fingers began to shake and his mouth felt drier than rice paper.

The jinchuuriki was now slowly moving back up, but this time there was something fundamentally different.

The demon was out.

A large layer of sand began to shift and hover around the red-haired boy. A low animalistic growl hummed in the boy’s throat as the sand shifted around him like a cocoon and in a blink of an eye, it shot out and threw five ninja backwards.

The assault had begun.

They had protocols for this, they were trained for this specific situation but somehow all those simulations, training and rehearsals seemed laughably redundant.

They were being tossed like ragdolls against the wall with depressing ease.

Throwing ninjutsu at it only made it worse.

Kima was still watching from the wall and his hands were shaking from the foreign chakra that sizzled the air - it burned hotter than the hottest day in summer at high noon. He could hardly understand how it was all coming from such a small body. Kima had heard about the insane jinchuriki and its infamous lust for blood but the young ninja never thought it would be this _intense_ or so – _demonic._

He just wanted to go home to his new born daughter.

Kima forced himself out of his stupor and realised his comrades needed him, regardless of the murderous atmosphere. He was about to jump down but stopped when the atmosphere cracked.

Hissing gurgled from the demon’s throat like liquid metal. A promise for pain.

Slowly sand began to harden over the boys form, shaping half his body into pale armor. Then his face began to change, twisting and molding into a face from old nightmares.

The boy was losing control and _they_ were losing. Period.

III

Twelve-year-old Kankuro grumbled for the hundredth time about older sisters with superior complexes.

He leisurely walked down the street with his hood pushed back, thinking over the things he needed to fix with his puppets. He cursed Temari for being so careless and breaking the framework of one of his puppets. To grind salt into his wounds, she brushed it off and told him to stop leaving his ‘toys’ around to be stepped on. They weren't _toys_. They were carefully crafted weapons. And his sister treated them with the same equivalency as children play-things, considering the way she trample – no – _danced_ on them.

He sighed and laced his finger together behind his head. He might as well start over with a new design.

Kankuro's musings were cut abruptly when he felt a familiar _burn._

The boy blinked and knew the hairs on the back of his neck were defying gravity.

His legs unwillingly brought him to the edge of the village to investigate despite half his mind hissing out in alarm.

When he reached the wall, the genin froze, his faced drained of all colour.

He could feel his younger brother’s chakra mixed in with the demons but the oppressive darkness of the One-Tails was easily dominating _everything_.

Kankuro had been exposed to the demon’s chakra more than the average person, along with Temari and Baki-sensei…but somehow the sensation of murderous hunger still leeched into his skin every time, impossibly getting worse every time he experienced Shukaku’s rage.

Kankuro's instincts were telling him to run. _Fight or flight._

And he was _so_ ready for flight.

Instead he grudgingly followed protocol like he was trained to.

Kankuro turned to the nearest ninja.

"Oi! Go get Jounin Baki-sensei in the main tower and find anyone else that can contain one-tails long enough! We need back up!"

It didn’t matter that a genin was barking out orders, the ninja did as he was told, clearly relieved to be given a chance to get the hell away.

The ninja ran off as Kankuro looked down at the sight of his crazed brother. The young red-head's face was contorted into a vicious sneer and his eyes were blazing with uncontrollable _crazy._  

Kankuro - despite his limbs all but vibrating in anticipation to runaway - went closer to observe until Baki-sensei came with reinforcements. But his plans to remain safely behind to wall crumbled when rubble began to fly his way.

Kankuro flailed as he was thrown backwards - along with other ninja - and slid down stone walls with a heavy slump. The world was now in double vision and he could taste copper at the back of his throat.

Kankuro did not see the most subtle pause in Gaara's movements. No one did.

III

Gaara clung onto the edge of the precipice, his consciousness dripping trough the sinkhole, falling down, down, _down._

It was like a half-dream as he watched the demon pull his body around like a puppet, needling strings through his palms, wrapping twine around his throat and cutting wire through his heart.

A marionette with claws.

But he pulled himself up from the dark void, the chasm of bloodlust and suddenly forced everything to an abrupt stop. In the haze of Shukaku’s impossible presence, Gaara turned his head towards a familiar voice.

His half blind eyes narrowed onto a boy’s painted face now covered in blood and something fraternal bloomed desperately from inside his ribcage. 

It didn't matter how far gone he was or how much the demon twisted his impossibly _young_ body – Gaara would never bend to it. He had long ago gained control over the damn beast for the soul purpose of being more than just a container. More than just a vessel or a package wrapped in soft flesh and brittle bone. A child accosted with monsters made from nightmares. He was more than that.

Only one thought crossed through his semi-unconscious mind.

 _Control_.

With one look over to his older brother who was now trying to stand back up, Gaara felt an impeccable wave of relief.

Then right afterwards Shukaku began to scream.

III

The jinchuuriki suddenly clutched his head in both his hands, yanking his hair, forcing back the crazed entity plaguing every fiber in his being.

By now most of the still-standing ninja were watching with fearful apprehension as the assault from the crushing sand stopped and remained swirling violently around the vessel.

Despite the lack of attack, no one felt even remotely safe as the demonic chakra raged on. Its fluctuating presence pulsed menacingly in the air and left a bitter sting on their skin.

Kankuro was watching along with everyone else, embarrassingly ready to wet himself. The killing intent was so think it was invading his eyes and crawling into his mouth.

His younger brother had lost control before but it never to this extent. Never to the point of forming a physical form of one-tails.

Not since…

Kankuro watched his younger brother yanked his head side to side with his eyes screwed shut in a kind of concentration that seemed almost desperate. Low growls broke from the boy’s throat but were quickly over taken by a sudden screams that gave him goosebumps.

Everyone was caught by surprise when the jinchuuriki fell onto his knees with a heavy thud. None of their weapons were lowered.

The sand moved around him in erratic lashes, but progressively less offensive and more confused.

Another _human_ growl ripped from the boy’s throat followed by heavy breathing.

No one moved an inch from where they stood. Despite not knowing what was happening, there was a unanimous understanding that no one was to move - no one wanted to risk breaking the demon out of his...

Finally and ever so slowly, the demonic sand began to drip away.

The demon chakra was still palpable but the killing intent was definitely decreasing. The remaining ninjas took audible gasps of air as the pressure lifted. Meanwhile the vessel folded into himself, his face completely obscured by his hanging fringe.

Some ninja began to stand up and others began to shift a little closer. No one knew if the threat was still unstable. Fear still cemented their limbs.

Gaara's heavy breathing was strained and the boy's body was vibrating as his muscles burned with a familiar heat that only ever came with his loss of control. For a moment everyone just watched for the demon child's next move, trying to ready themselves for another possible attack that would surely come.

III

Kankuro's leg was bleeding.

And he promptly ignored the twisted body of a dead ninja folded under a rock to his left.

The atmosphere was still tight like coiled cords around everyone’s throats, but somehow, he unexplainably knew this would be all for the night.

Gaara was curled inwards, the epicenter of the sudden eerie calm and Kankuro didn’t know whether to move closer or runaway while he still could.

Then his brother’s head began to lift upwards and everyone tensed. Ready for a fight. Ready to flee.

Without hesitation, the first thing those pale eyes locked onto was Kankuro.

The puppeteer froze immediately as those eyes bore hazily into his own. The genin was expecting the cold stare of flat eyes but what met him were exhausted pair of pale green. Like thin shale underwater.

His younger brother's usual crazed look was now replaced by something that Kankuro didn’t have the vocabulary to identify – something less like barbed wire.

Before Kankuro could stop his mouth he called out, _"Gaara?"_

The puppeteer nearly slapped his hand over his mouth. Silence and tension fizzled through all the sand shinobi standing at the ready.

Suddenly the jinchuriki was moving.

But the demon container did not attack. He just slowly pushed himself off the ground with an almost painful amount of effort till he was standing on his feet. Exhaustion was palpable from his shaking limbs and labored breath. After managing getting himself vertical, he stood on his two feet for a few seconds then began to drag himself in an almost coma-like state.

Out of fear and out of apprehension the ninja watched the boy trudge painfully past them without doing anything to stop him.

They watched as Gaara slowly limp toward one person.

Kankuro didn't know what to think when he realised that his brother was approaching him. The older genin was still sitting amongst the rubble with a bleeding leg and suddenly felt trapped like he’d never been before.

Gaara eyes remained locked on Kankuro, no one else.

Kankuro began to shuffle backwards, trying to get a greater distance between him and Gaara but couldn’t get very far. He looked up fearfully at his younger brother who was now only a few meters away and pressed his back against the broken wall.

The puppeteer wished not for the first time that he had stayed home with his broken puppets.

Relief flooded him when he spotted Baki-sensei approaching from over the wall but moved no closer. He just watched the strange scene with apprehension. When the older genin looked back at Gaara, he paused when he saw a hazy kind of recognition flicker behind his eyes. He wanted his sensei to move and get him out of there!

But Gaara was still standing passively in front of Kankuro, arms hanging meekly by his side and eyes drooping low.

Not a drop of crazy in sight and that somehow made the genin more nervous.

But…maybe for the first time that night, he felt that perhaps Gaara wasn't going to go flipping mad. Either he was feeling really brave or a bit of rubble hit him too hard on the head but Kankuro decided to test his chances with his dazed brother.

"Gaara?"

He didn't think his brother had heard his whisper but flinched when Gaara’s eye narrowed to the sounds of his voice. Razor-sharp and burning.

III

Something wasn't right.

Nothing was making sense in his abused mind anymore and he couldn't seem to gain control of his reasoning.

_Too young. Too small. So tired._

Thrumming inside his skull never seemed to cease. He looked back at Kankuro who flinched involuntarily and Gaara felt a deep sadness carve a trench in his gut.

He hadn’t been looked like that in so long.

Suddenly Gaara felt his face burn uncomfortably and pins and needles accosted every surface of his skin. The strange feeling of gravitational confusion rammed into his temple and Gaara fumbled to his knees again. The sky was spinning in circles.

He barely felt the rocks cut into his cheek when he fell face first into the ground.

.  
.  
.

Art work I painted for this fic ~ CADEL

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wanted to read a Gaara Time-Travel fic for a while and I never really found one, it actually got quite frustrating. Eventually I spontaneously wrote up this chapter to fill the longing of wanting to read a fic that didn’t exist.
> 
> It came down to me actually writing one. Oh dear.
> 
> Haha, Gaara’s a great character with a lot of heart. Let’s give him some limelight yeah?
> 
> Thanks for dropping by, I appreciate it.
> 
> Keep it Kool.
> 
> CADEL


	2. Chapter 2

.

 

When dawn broke the next day, Baki found himself standing in front of an assembly of council members.

The whispers and the tired air of grimness soaked itself into the clay wall of the council room.

The Jounin instructor for all three of the Kazekage’s children already had expectations on how this meeting would go and only wished for his part to be over. He sighed inwardly and waited for his leader to begin the meeting.

A man with blue spectacles stood up and called for the attention of everyone in the room.

"We were summoned here due to yesterday’s events regarding the Ichibi-Jinchuriki which occurred thirteen hours ago. The incident has called for a voted meeting in which the majority of the council has brought forth their concerns in regards to one Sabaku-no-Gaara, Jinchuriki of One-tails."

Baki blocked out the other formal drabble until his named was called forward.

The Jounin stood straight and moved closer towards the panel. Baki was asked to report what he had observed from yesterday’s events which he did dutifully. Once in a while, someone would ask him to elaborate further. Truthfully, Baki only saw most of the end of Gaara's rampage and was certain that they had already heard more detailed account from the other patrolling ninjas that were also present.

They only needed an official statement from him due to the fact that he was Gaara's instructor; a needed formality.

"The boy stopped on his own and eventually managed to calm himself down in which he later collapsed." Baki reported.

A civilian council member suddenly spoke up.

"There were three casualties and eleven severely injured and one ninja whom may never walk again. Even when the boy _is_ in control, he kills more of his own comrades than enemies, it is clear the demon is out of control! Something must be done!"

Baki resisted the urge to sigh. Three casualties _only_? That was a blessing in comparison to Gaara’s usual kill count during his ‘episodes’.

Another council member nodded in agreement.

"The boy is too dangerous and we have tolerated his out of control behavior for far too long. I believe it is time that we permanently deal with the problem."

"I don't think dealing with the Jinchuriki will solve anything. We are having hostilities from both Cloud and Stone with flimsy treaties in place and Cloud has _two_ jinchuriki at their disposal. We cannot risk losing our weapon."

The voices escalated.

"The boy was deemed unreliable and dangerously unstable to be of any use a long time ago." Another elder declared. "Although we had hoped he would be able to control the monster as he grew, it has now become a double-edged sword. He has more control now than he did a few years ago but in return he has become more blood-thirsty and without a single shred of fear for authority. He is a weapon, but the child is also a very dangerous liability to this village. His most recent display of terror only contributes to the growing need to deal with this problem." the man stated standing up from his seat.

There were low nods and sounds of agreement.

Baki watched the Kazekage remain quite in his seat as he listened to the potential plans on the assassination of his youngest son. Although Baki knew most members wanted Gaara dead, there were some inclined to be indifferent and few even against outright eliminating the child.

It was awkward because usually this would be a military concern, but Gaara’s massacres affected both the political and social departments.

A woman with a red fan raised her voice to voice her opinion.

"Your plans to kill the child would all be pointless as many assassination attempts have already been carried out and _failed_. No point repeating inevitable failure. It will be just a waste of time."

She did not favor the jinchuuriki, but she was not against reason as her instincts saw best fit, and her instincts told her it would be a waste of time and resource to kill the demon container.

"Besides, until yesterday, the boy has been relatively functional in his genin unit and despite being unstable, he has shown relative skill in being a shinobi. We don’t know the outcome of what kind of ninja he'll be in the future but it seems that there is still some hope of harnessing a relatively stable weapon. Despite violent tendencies, the Jinchuriki is still a powerful force to be reckoned with and as much of a danger he may be to the village, he is even more dangerous to our enemies."

Another man to the left of the Kazekage cleared his throat.

"I think most of our concerns come from specifically the event that occurred yesterday evening. The jinchuriki has always let a specific level of Ichibi leak out and influence him, but the demon has never had as much control as it did yesterday." the elder paused then continued. "The demon had actually begun manifesting a physical body; it has never reached to that level before…not since the _incident_ years ago. Concerns about the seal have been brought forth."

Many agreed with the man’s statement, but many also knew the seal was just another dead end.

Baki knew that the seal placed on Gaara had been mediocre at best and had a plethora of glitches compared to the seal created by the Yondaime Hokage. But regardless, what’s done is done. Talk about improving the seal was impossible.

The woman spoke up again.

"I think perhaps that another factor influenced the boy in losing control of One-Tails." she paused to make sure everyone was listening. "His fever."

"Fever?" an elder cut in.

"Yes." the female elder now turned to Baki specifically. "It is not true that the boy has never been sick a day in his life?"

Baki nodded. "That is correct. I believe, just like the automatic sand defense, that the Ichibi is responsible for protecting the boy against internal illness."

"So it was very strange to find that he had an extremely high fever when he was found unconscious?"

The jounin paused then nodded.

"Yes." Baki answered obediently. "It is unprecedented.”

She looked at Baki and asked, "You have been his jounin instructor for a year now, what do _you_ think of this?"

The jounin paused momentarily due to being put on the spot but answered honestly.

"I’m not sure.” He answered cautiously. “I suspect it’s possible that his fever had something to do with yesterday’s event…but the opposite can also be true."

"Where is the demon container now?" ask another man.

"He's sleeping in the private infirmary." Baki answered plainly.

The whole room suddenly tensed at Baki's answer, and to be honest, Baki himself was not too comfortable with it either. Almost everyone in the room looked as if they were waiting for the ceiling to come down on their heads.

" _Sleeping_!" one civilian elder sputtered. His fear was reflected perfectly with everyone else in the room. “The jinchuuriki has always woken up after his episodes!”

Baki nodded grimly. "Yes, he's sleeping at the moment." Everyone had turned a strange shade of white at his confirmation. "But since losing consciousness yesterday, the boy has not shown any signs of being possessed or controlled by the demon. It seems whatever is wrong with the boy is severe enough that the demon has not taken over...for now. Lady Chiyo has already made an assessment, danger is minimal."

The council members relaxed, but only by a fraction. Their paranoia and fear were still palpable.

Baki admitted that he would feel a hell of a lot more comfortable when Gaara woke up.

III

They didn’t know that Gaara had already woken, that he had been lying awake for almost three hours.

Three hours and he’d all but coiled into himself, sore muscles barely shifting and eye shut tight. However, he couldn’t shut off his nose so instead he let the scents of home blanket him in disbelief and unimaginable incredibility. The mere _smell_ of the air had the genin biting into his lip till they nearly bled.

His senses already knew where he was, but his mind was turbulent with confusion and a healthy amount of denial.

In the first hour of being lucid, Gaara had come up with an impressive collection of possible reasons for his current predicament, and then he had an intense inner battle about whether he should laugh or cry at his sudden realization that he was not stuck in a genjutsu - that all he believed in and all the people he loved were somewhere outside that small infirmary window.

The universe was either playing a sick joke on him or fate suddenly decided to love him with all the passion of a deranged fan girl.

The young Kazekage lay still under his white sheets and slowly opened his eyes for the first time since waking up. The light brown tones of Suna's stucco structures greeted him with a nostalgic familiarity that only made the boy want to close his eyes again.

He dare not look out the small round window to his left.

Gaara knew that behind the dusty window glass, was a sight he thought would never greet him again. Clean, healthy and whole. Gaara was completely at loss to what it was he was doing here at all.

He might have been overwhelmed with some hysterically dark version of happiness, but Gaara had always been pragmatic.

Seeing, hearing, smelling and touching his environment with all his sense was still not enough. His instincts still dictated a level of suspicion. Half his heart was already been won over, but still, he did not believe everything he was experiencing. Too many years of being chased, hunted, hated, loved, feared and depended on had made Gaara far too much of a realist.

Although…how nice it would be…

But the smell of dried-fruit market stalls and overheated clay under an ozone of midday heat was still preferable than _everything else_ that laid underneath his bed sheets. He dare not look.

Ignore the small hands. Forget about the height. Don’t look at the unblemished skin.

And if Gaara did notice these things…well, the breathing exercises were welcome. After all, mild panic attacks weren’t becoming of a Kazekage.

Was he ten or eleven? He could not tell.

Gaara shifted his legs to the side of the bed and gently stood on his small feet. He felt a lot better than he would have expected and his physical strength was already on its way to being back to normal. Gaara walked back and forth in the room, trying to get used to the length of his shorter legs and equalizing the weight of his body to his own inner balance. His equilibrium felt uncomfortable off.

Gaara pressed his hand against the hidden seal. Ichibi was an entirely other matter.

It had been a long time since Gaara felt the demonic presence of Ichibi within his body.

It was like inviting a horrible guest back into your house and feeling a little repulsed at how normal it felt. How well they occupied your space. Parasite.

As horrible as the extraction by Akatsuki had been, it was also a small blessing. Dying had been worth it, since it meant being free from the demon's psychotic influence. Although afterwards Gaara had confessed to Naruto that he still considered himself a Jinchuriki despite the absence of the demon and much to his relief, he felt no shame for it.

Ripping the parasite that grew in him since birth never erased the feeling that he would always be ‘Jinchuuriki’ – human sacrifice.

Is that what this was? This place? That village beyond the window? Another sacrifice?

The genin sat down again and stretched out his hands and feet, feeling the stretch pull out into fingers and toes. The burn was welcoming.

Gaara - unlike the council - knew his fever did not cause him to lose control of Ichibi. Instead it was quite the opposite. It was because Ichibi had been so weak already that it could not _prevent_ the fever. In one last final push, it had tried to regain some strength by breaking through Gaara's mental fortifications which - in a sense - was actually a good thing. Its rampage had actually helped the demon gain some of its former strength and in a sense, _acclimatize_ itself for such a disorientating waking.

Shukaku, it seemed, did not know what to make of Gaara. Did not really know who its vessel was anymore.

Now Gaara could feel the presence again, he could feel the demonic chakra through his veins and the ambient thrumming that he knew was the very essence of the One-Tails, and he honestly didn't know whether he was upset or indifferent.

The previous night’s massacre brought a red burning to his face that climbed to his ears. How ashamed he felt. He may be young again but he had all the will and mental strength of his older self.

Gaara resolved that he would never let the demon take control ever again.

He will never be a cause for fear to his family, friends and village. He made the oath once when he became the Godaime Kazekage and he will make the oath once again.

Provide, Promise and _Protect_.

.  
.  
.

 

First look through the window ~ CADEL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And it continues. Bare with me my fellow readers.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

It was as Temari was heading to the training ground for practice, that she saw _him_.

 

The kunoichi had recently modified her weapon of choice and wanted to test out the new modifications. The young genin had learned a new wind technique and was eager to hone her skills to perfection. Kankuro would usually join her but he was resting for the rest of the day in bed.

 

As her thoughts strayed to her brother, Temari recalled last night when Kankuro came back home quiet, with blood trailing down his leg which stained their floor.

 

She knew it was not a training accident, not with the way he gripped the door knob too tight or how he still clutched onto his kunai even within the safety of his own home. Kankuro did not speak while she cleaned his wound and she didn’t pry. Temari could guess what happened. It was clear in the way the stench of ‘demon’ that clung to her brother’s silence.

 

Temari was nowhere near the outer walls that night, so she was not aware of the incident that had occurred there, but she found out after Kankuro got over his mild shock. He gave a rough and crude description of the event:  _"He's gone off the rocker!"_ and “ _Batshit crazy!”_

 

Although Gaara's bouts of blood-lust were not uncommon, Kankuro's descriptions did not sound the least bit good. Yet what surprised her was finding out their younger brother had _passed out_ from a _fever_. Temari could not recall a time where Gaara was ever ill.

 

Temari jumped onto the rooftops so she could travel faster towards her destination. After travelling for a few minutes, a flash of familiar red caught her eye in the distance.

 

Gaara was standing on a roof top looking over the village.

 

His clothes were still covered with dirt and sand, and were clearly not changed since yesterday. Temari observed as Gaara gripped the railings and leaned over to look down at the people walking below. His back was towards her so she could not see his face.

 

But the image of his back seemed oddly expressive at that moment, the way his face wasn’t.

 

Tight and bent forward, like he wanted to jump.

 

Temari knew Gaara tended to do things on his own. He was so solitary in nature, but now and then, she wondered what was going on in her little brother’s mind. Was it any different to her thoughts? It must be. But it can’t all be mystery. She remembered a time where he wasn’t so bad - wasn’t so torn in two. Or maybe she was over thinking, maybe his mind really was just a reflection of his behavior; blood thirsty, cold and apathetic.

 

Gaara was still for another moment, then suddenly he pushed of the railings in a single, swift movement and jumped down to the streets below him.

 

Temari was taken aback by the sudden movement, but without thinking, she quickly jumped down after him.

 

Why she was following him, she had no clue.

 

Perhaps the heat was making her impulsive. Maybe it was her curiosity. Maybe it was the image of Kankuro distantly watching his leg get sown back together that got her moving.

 

Regardless, she found herself tailing Suna’s Jinchuuriki.

 

The blonde kunoichi stayed a few meters behind as she weaved through the streets, keeping her eyes on Gaara. She had been informed that he – much to her alarm – had been unconscious for the majority of the night, but from what she was seeing, he was well enough to walk around.

 

Temari frowned as she continued to tail her brother. She wasn't exactly sure what Gaara was doing.

 

For all she could tell, he wasn't doing anything at all. As absurd as it sounded, it looked like the boy was just taking a leisurely walk through the village. Gaara paced his steps and weaved his way around the people, completely ignoring the frightened glares from the civilians. His eyes wandered to the buildings, to the market stalls, the dusty windows and the blue sky above – seeing things she clearly could not. Temari also observed that he stumbled now and then over nothing, but other than that, he seemed perfectly fine...although ‘ _fine_ ’ was a generous description when associated with Gaara.

 

Temari wasn't even sure what the hell she was doing following him. Surely she was courting death.

 

The boy liked his space. He liked it _a lot._ There was an unspoken rule that when the kid wanted to do something, stay the hell away.

 

Baki had pulled both her and Kankuro away when their team was first formed, and began a listing off things they should do in situations that involved Gaara and his _needs_. Most of the instructions involved fleeing from sight which both siblings were more than happy to do.

 

Their sensei even made an instruction manual. It was that serious.

 

Temari's logic was telling her that her younger brother should not be left alone to roam around after completely losing it just the day previously, despite knowing that if he did, she wouldn't be able to do anything. Yet despite the warning bells in her head, Temari continued to tail him.

 

Gaara behaved calm, making no extreme movements as he strolled silently through the street. His controlled steps were such a contradiction to his violent nature that Temari couldn't help wonder about her brother's dichotomous nature sometimes; like a highly reactive chemical with a very low threshold for stability.

 

Her feet carried her to a larger street lined by market stands and rutted roads for cargo. The market area was already bustling with a feeling of hectic movement as people sold and traded food and goods.

 

Gaara continued to walk past everyone as if they didn't exist, and continued to his unknown destination.

 

As Temari continued to follow her brother through the village, her attention was distracted by a movement a little to the left of her vision.

 

It took only a few moments for the disaster to unfold.

 

A young woman with long, black hair - tied in twin plaits - moved across the street with a basket full of bread loaves. As she walked towards the bakery across the small road, she tripped over an elevated stone jutting out of the ground.

 

Loaves of bread rolled to the ground as she fell to her knees with a heavy thud.

 

She did not see the cart racing down the path.

 

The young woman had bent down to collect her food but her back was completely turned to the street and could not see the oncoming danger. But Temari could.

 

The kunoichi leaped into action, running towards to the woman, calling out a warning, but her voice was stolen by the bustle of the crowd. She wasn't close enough the intercept the cart. The kunoichi's heart sank a little as she watched the cart draw closer.

 

Only meters away from the collision, the bread woman finally noticed the sound of rushing wheels and her eyes widened in alarm.

 

Before she could scream, a sudden wave of sand engulfed her.

 

The sandy blanket - which seemingly came out of nowhere - wrapped around her small body in the last moment and pulled her away from the path. The woman screamed when she realised she was hovering in the air, unsure of when her feet had left the ground.

 

Temari stopped, her eyes growing impossibly wide when she realised it was Gaara’s sand suspending the woman.

 

The sudden tension in the air was palpable as the villagers took in the sight of the demon boy and the woman in his sand. They backed away, pressing themselves closer to the walls and lower to the ground, hoping the jinchuuriki would not notice them.

 

"P-please, let her go." stuttered a voice from nearby. It was the baker from the shop behind and his face was white with fear as he looked up at the woman. "Please, she's my only daughter! Don't kill her!"

 

Silence descended upon the crowd as they morbidly watched on. Some were glaring hatefully at the demon, but most had undeniable expressions of fear and pity painted on their faces. But mostly relief. Relief that it wasn’t them being victimized.

 

Despite not being exposed to the demon very often, the population knew his reputation for bloodlust. But for once, Temari had seen something that no one else seemed to have noticed.

 

The woman wasn’t dead.

 

Had Gaara intended to kill her, she would have been dead before anyone could protest, before Temari could have arrived at the scene, before the bread woman would have time to scream.

 

It would have all happened unceremoniously fast. Nothing more than a passing blink.

 

But she was still hovering in the air and when living in a reality that consisted of Gaara and his law of bloodlust – this was significant.

 

Gaara's action were purely to remove the woman from the path of an oncoming cart. Even now as she watched the sand, she couldn’t feel any malevolent chakra.

 

Incredibly, impossibly…he had saved her.

 

…

 

Maybe?

 

Temari was no idiot, but she still didn’t quite know what to do with her deduction.

 

Since the forming of her three-cell genin team, the blonde kunoichi had become impossibly intimate with internal organs and body fluids from all crevices of the human anatomy - more than she would have ever thought possible. She had witnessed Gaara use his terrible Sand Coffin to crush his opponents to nothing at all, and seen the less-than-human apathy directed to everyone and everything that was not ‘mother’.

 

There was a reluctant guilt that festered in her gut because she couldn’t see Gaara as a brother sometimes.

 

…But now and then, she would look and see lost potential, an after image of red-haired child dwarfed by clothes too big, and the way he would trudge that bear everywhere.

 

But that was all it was. An after image, a mirage, a ghost of what could have been. She never dwelled on it.

 

Sentiment never over-rode her instincts to survive. Gaara was dangerous. She didn't want a first-hand reminder as to why Baki-sensei had drilled escape routes and evasive maneuvers purely to avoid being killed by her own brother.

 

A middle-aged man standing in the crowd was feeling brave, or in Temari's opinion very, very stupid. He took a step forward. "Let go of her demon! I’ve called for back-up! The Kazekage will be here!"

 

He was bluffing. Despite his strong words, it was evident that he was no less terrified than the man next to him, not with the way his voice tremble after every syllable.

 

The man flinched back when Gaara slowly turned to look at him, or more accurately, look _through_ him.

 

There was a tense moment of complete silence; everyone seemed to hold their breath for the inevitable slaughter of the man or the woman. Most likely both.

 

But neither came.

 

Slowly the sand shifted, causing everyone to wince in horrified anticipation, but nothing lashed out and Gaara did not move.

 

Slowly the woman was gently placed on the ground.

 

Her limbs were shaking and her eyes remained transfixed on Gaara. The young woman's father rushed towards her as soon as the sand receded and wrapped her in his arms, trying to physically cover her from Gaara. The jinchuuriki paused and look at the dark-haired woman, and the woman seemed to stare right back at him. Then for a moment, Temari saw Gaara's eyes flick over to the ground for a split second to look at the...bread?

 

Then, his eyes locked onto Temari from across the path.

 

She blinked, then he was looking to the east, already turning to leave.

 

The man who had previously tried to talk to Gaara muttered ‘demon’ venomously under his breath as Gaara began to quietly walk away. The disdain and fear shot his way rolled off his back as he pushed forward, eventually leaving the market place.

 

Temari watched the back of her brother slowly disappear in the crowd, and decided not to follow him.

 

For probably the first time since memory, Temari honestly didn't know if her blood-thirsty brother had actually wanted to inflict harm on another person. Her brain said yes, but was she saw said no. His actions did not match his normal patterns of behaviour.

 

Temari sighed. This was not her concern.

 

It was a good thing Gaara didn't kill anyone today; it would cause more problems for their father.

 

The blonde kunoichi shook her head, brushing away the image of a lonely back fading into the crowd.

 

She had better things to do...safer things to do.

 

III

 

Gaara silently kept to the sides of the streets as he continued walking through the village.

 

Nostalgia and homesickness seemed to suffocate him from the moment he mustered the courage to walk out of the infirmary.

 

He didn't understand how he could be homesick for Suna, when he _was_ in Suna.

 

Gaara tried to memorise every alleyway, every crack in the wall and every face that passed him by, whether smiling or glaring. Suddenly, he paid unnatural amount of attention to bits of rocks, pebbles, trash on the streets, the dirt that clung on the windows to the monolithic stucco structures.

 

Even the feeling of sand invading the softer parts of his body was oddly welcoming.

 

From the very moment he looked over the village from the infirmary window, Gaara forced himself to stop shaking.

Flushed orange and brown with a haze of gold, the village looked like a sunlit painting imbued with activity and heat. Vivid memories from the future where he was the Kazekage, where he had finally gained the love and trust of Suna, started to overlap with flashes of his first childhood and his current one now.

 

Gaara had three versions of the same village in his mind, and each one had been seen with vastly different eyes, all three in different times.

 

The first time he had been eleven, he had been so influenced by Ichibi that when he tried to think of anything remotely normal or mundane, screaming would fill the chasm in his head. The jinchuuriki was so wrapped in the demon's acidic whispers that when he looked at the village, all he had seen was an abattoir of pigs waiting to be slaughtered.

 

His youth was bleached grey.

 

He had been colour blind for so long – unable to see the warm hues of family ties, the solid shades in his comrade’s trust and the brilliant red of the strings that bound them all.

 

Then a blur of chaotic orange and blue tore up his cage of apathy, and suddenly, Gaara’s world became kaleidoscopic. 

 

Gaara had been the leader of Sunagakure for a few years, not very long, but they were prosperous. There was a silent pressure for the one named to be the youngest Kage in the elemental continent. This had caused the young jinchuuriki to strive to make a mark, to make a stand that proved he had deserved his placement as a shinobi leader. The young jinchuuriki was no idiot, he knew that the real reason the council of elders even considered making him Kazekage was to keep him under close watch, to keep him chained to the village in more ways than one. After he took on the robes, Gaara followed his vows religiously in order to become the strongest leader of the Village Hidden in the Sand. Slowly, the village began to respect him for his merits and his drive to protect those he held precious to him.

 

He wanted _trust_ , he wanted _acceptance_ and eventually, he realised he had love all along. He _earned_ it.

 

He was the defense, the shield and the driving heart of his village, no amount of time would erase the pride and adoration he had for his fellow shinobi.

 

But in a flash, not even a moment, everything was gone.

 

The Great Fourth Shinobi War was nothing like its three predecessors; it was a horror on its own level.

 

On some particularly bad days, the young Kazekage remembered he almost wanted Shukaku back...just so he could willingly let it loose, so it could destroy the Akatsuki or Tobi or Kabuto in a fit of uncontrollable blood-rage. It was not rational, but those thoughts were reserved for those few dark moments when his mind would wander.

 

Of course, Gaara only ever wanted peace.

 

And in one hit, Sunagakure was almost decimated in one night.

 

It was a day Gaara deemed to be the lowest point of all of Suna history. The village so proud and stubborn - demanding life in a middle of desert -  that it was crushed back into the sand in which it rose. In a sense, it was poetic...but Gaara was never much of a poet, so he did not appreciate the irony.

 

The only thing he could be happy about was the fact that the people of his village were evacuated and many survived the attack. It had hurt him in the greatest way to willingly and knowingly leave his village to be destroyed. Gaara was amazed that shinobi and civilians alike were still calling him their leader even after they had no physical home, and were living in nomadic tents. But the people were more important and the sacrifice actually - in some twisted way - had actually helped there side gain positive advances against their enemies. Once again, the irony was ignored.

 

Now as Gaara gazed at the sprawling village covered in a haze of sand, he couldn’t push away the stinging thought that he lost them all over again.

 

All the bonds, all the ties he created with his people, to his loyal shinobi, to his siblings...were all gone. And the most ironic part was that no one was dead.

 

For the life of him, Gaara had no idea how he ended up here.

 

Despite the Kazekage’s intelligent mind, he was finding it incredibly hard to draw up any memories directly before he landed in the past.

 

All he found was a dark void where his memories should have been.

 

Time jumping was improbable, but not impossible. It seemed something people like Orochimaru, Kabuto and even Sarutobi would investigate out of curiosity or to try implement for malicious or academic research. But Gaara had never even contemplated the subject. He never had to.

 

The young Kazekage’s forehead furrowed in concentration as he mauled over his unusual predicament, but a slight shift in the air broke Gaara out of his thought.

 

 

They could not be seen, but he felt them not too far away, hovering in a loose formation so not to crowd the unstable jinchuuriki. They made no more advances, but Gaara could tell they were on alert. The silent group of elites had been following him since he left the infirmary. Gaara ignored them, seemingly content with being surrounded by a dozen ANBU.

He stayed like that for a few minutes till he abruptly stood up, no longer feeling like bending his mind into knots.

The ANBU watched like gargoyles as the boy jumped down in one movement and walked back to the village.

.

.

. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for reading this far.
> 
> Keep it kool
> 
>  
> 
> CADEL


	4. Chapter 4

Gaara found himself lying naked on his own bathroom floor.

After the jinchuuriki had reacquainted himself with the village, he hesitantly decided it was time to go home.

Despite its grandness, there wasn't much love lost for his house, and even less for his small bedroom. The main part of his childhood was spent inside, isolated from the populace. It was only after he had officially joined Baki's genin team with his siblings that he was permitted to live in the same house as his family. Before then, his father had ostracized his youngest son and kept Gaara separated from his siblings, with only his uncle for company.

It was strange looking into the room. It felt like walking into a photograph, a still image from a very specific time in his life.

It did not feel lived in, nothing like his room from the future. The space felt like a cage. Maybe a tomb.

He banished his thoughts and grabbed his towel as he made his way to the bathroom, the grime and filth that clung to his skin becoming unbearable.

Gaara stood under the hot water for long minutes, feeling the kinks and knots gently unravelling under his young skin as steam billowed around his body in a thick blanket. He felt tired. 

It was only a few moments later, when Gaara began to feel a strange pull in his stomach.

He held onto the tile wall for a brief moment in alarm, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

Perhaps ignoring it was not the best idea, because by the time he had turned off the faucets, Gaara collapsed onto the floor with a splitting pain ramming into his temples. The strange pull in his stomach had come back ten-fold and his vision had reduced to almost nothing.

Biting back a scream, the young ninja forced himself to breathe regularly, ignoring the droplets of water falling into his nose and eyes. The thrumming in his head eventually receded, but a harsh whisper replaced it instead.

Gaara snapped his eyes opened and forced himself to stay lucid when he realised what was happening.

Shukaku had woken.

Gaara had been expecting this, but he didn't know what to expect _after_ the creature had come out of his exhausted slumber _._ It had been so long since he had to worry about the Ichibi, that the young ninja was concerned about the level of control he really possessed over the demon.

It seemed he would soon find out.

Gaara had never been able to control and communicate with Ichibi the way Naruto could with Kyuubi. He never got the chance, nor did he want to come face to face with his tormentor.

But in his later years Gaara paid close attention to Naruto's interaction with his tailed-beast out of curiosity.

Kurama and Naruto had a very odd relationship, something that Gaara couldn’t even hope to create with Shukaku. Or really want to. The beast was unreasonable. However, he watched Naruto enter his own mind through some focused meditation, but despite Gaara’s questions, struggled to explain the method in words _._ It was in this state that his friend would communicate with his _furball_ pet and even interact with it in a tactile manner. At some point, his blonde friend had relative control over the environment of his mindscape, enough to alter things at will.

It was funny, because like all the things Naruto did, he didn’t know how utterly incredible the things he did were. He blundered through them with endearing bullheadedness and found new paths.

And it gave Gaara an idea.

He did not know if it would work, but it just might hold Ichibi off temporarily – at least till he could find his bearings in his backward journey.

The genin pushed back the ache in his body and ignored the lust filled whispers as he sat up and crossed his legs on the tile floor. He immediately closed his eyes and began to detach himself from his surroundings, no longer acknowledging or reacting to his five senses.

There was no specific time to when Gaara had found himself no longer in his bathroom.

Time made no sense where he was now, and the forever encompassing weightlessness seemed to settle into the very marrow of his bones.

And with another deep breath, he let himself fall.

III

With deliberate slowness, Gaara opened his pale eyes.

And found himself upside-down.

In his moment of complete disorientation, he found it difficult not to flail helplessly. The ground and sky had switched places.

After moments of adjusting to the strangeness of his directional orientation, Gaara took a step forward - on the sky. His body swayed, expecting to fall, but his feet remained firmly attached to the ground...no...sky. A sky of solid sunset.

Gravity seemed to _feel_ normal, as if Gaara was the only one right-side-up, and that the rest of the world was stuck on the ceiling. And surrounding him, was a never-ending horizon of gold sand dunes which rose several metres into the air, then dipped back into the ground.

His world was an upside down desert, bathed in perpetual sunset.

The desert part was almost boringly unsurprising - but it didn’t feel right. There was something _off_ with it...too quiet and too lovely in a way. It didn’t feel like it was _his._

But most importantly, he noticed there wasn't a single trace of demonic presence anywhere.

The seducing whispers of Shukaku was now absent, along with the underlying blood-lust that accompanied Gaara's every waking moment. The silence was more than a little unnerving, like being trapped in a genjutsu.

"Shukaku?"

Gaara's voiced echoed into the strange landscape without a reply.

He waited a moment, then took another step. "Shukaku, I wish to speak with you."

The desert swallowed his words.

All of it was getting strange. Where was the demon? Surely its presence would have been the most noticeable thing in his mindscape, no matter where it hid. Ichibi had such profound physical presence in the living world that it was beyond strange it would be almost none existent in his mind.

Without warning, sand from the desert above him - _his sky_ \- began to fall.

Streams of gold grains silently cascaded downwards to the sky - _his ground_ \- and began to pool around Gaara's feet. The sunset sky that the young Kazekage had been standing on began to drip...upwards. In moments, Gaara was neck-deep in sand and watched as it flooded the entire terrain.

The world was flipping.

Oddly, Gaara felt no need to panic. Surely he would be suffocated under tons of pouring sand, but an underlying voice told him to stay still. Let the world guide him.

By the time his mouth was filled with sand, Gaara shut his eyes. When his head finally went under, he found himself submerged in _water_.

Deep blue and inky black.

He could breathe and the aqueous volume was neither cold nor warm. The pulse of his heart seemed to thrum in tandem with the heartbeat of his ocean – like a womb.

And when he turned around, he came face to face with the very demon he had been looking for.

Shukaku was staring at him, its enormous form floating, submerged in deep blue. The demon did not attack or move from its watery suspension. Instead, it gazed at Gaara with vacant eyes, as if unsure who he was.

"Shukaku." his voiced echoed.

The demon remained eerily still.

"I don’t know if you understand me, or if you are listening – but I’m afraid I cannot accommodate you anymore.” Gaara whispered calmly, his voice no louder than a hush.

The demon suddenly seemed to recover from its stillness and began to snarl and scream, as if it woke from its half-lucid state. Yet, what was odd was that Gaara couldn't hear a thing. What should have been bone-chilling, demonic screeching, was now just silence, lost in the mass of watery blue.

"It seems your screams have landed on deaf ears Shukaku." Gaara said to himself.

After a moment of hesitation, Gaara swam closer to the violently thrashing creature, and placed a small hand on the tanuki's head. The creature snarled viciously, its face turning even more hideous in its anger, but Gaara felt its enormous body began to involuntarily still.

Gaara closed his eyes, and brought forth a behemoth of chakra from somewhere within his belly. Burning hot and uncomfortably tight, the jinchuuriki lifted his hand and snapped it around the demon.

Shukaku bellowed in panic and rage as chains tighten around its body from the darkness below.

The seal was weak, but Gaara was not.

"Listen Shukaku, and listen carefully." Gaara began with a voice that held all the authority of a Kage. "You are not permitted to leave this prison I have made for you. _I_ will not allow you even an inch of foot space in this pitiful cage. You cannot whisper sweet things in my ear and I will never ask you to give me your power. I will _take_ it."

Gaara shifted his hands to grab a now visible chain attached to the tanuki's legs and tail. Shackled down by unknown forces, the demon could not move from its watery prison.

It was an unusual cage for the demon of the desert, but poetically fitting. Somehow, this strange, never-ending ocean of ultramarine blue became Ichibi's tomb.

"A cage within a cage." The boy moved away. “This ocean was created by Lady Chiyo’s seal, but these chains are mine. They will rust and decay with time, but I will find a way to keep you here. To keep you safe.”

_Liar!_

The demon hissed out its thoughts like slow crawling lava.

“I _am_ trying to protect you, and I’m also trying to protect myself.” The jinchuuriki held its stare. “There are people out there right now who wish to _use_ you, _destroy_ you and _tear_ your brothers and sisters apart. They will try and they will probably succeed.” He leaned in again, pushing as much weight into his voice as he could, trying to desperately reason with the creature’s dubious logic. “I am not your enemy.”

It twisted itself into knots trying to clamp its jaws around Gaara’s throat.

The genin lifted his gaze to Shukaku’s dilated pupils, and suddenly and quite unexpectedly, felt deep pity.

A creature of such old power, age and lineage was left to drown in the mind of an eleven year-old child.

"You are tired." the jinchuuriki commented with a sigh.

For the first time, Gaara considered how his own behavior affected his prisoner. He was completely aware of how Shukaku's desires bled into Gaara's own personality, but the reverse was also applicable.

"You cannot sleep, like I cannot sleep." Gaara gave out a small sigh as he let go of the shackles in his hand. "I don’t have time to worry about you."

Gaara swam up and placed his hand on the demons eye-lids. "Sleep Shukaku. The more you fight me, hurt me and corrupt me, the more you will suffer. Sleep, so I can sleep. Perhaps then, I may find a less painful way to keep you here."

He inserted a small dose of his own chakra directly into the demon’s forehead, and watched as it tried to vainly fight off Gaara’s command.

Slowly, gradually, its eyelids began to droop to a close. For the first time in eleven years, the Ichibi fell into a drowning slumber.

III

The waters stilled, Shukaku slumbered and it was time for Gaara to leave.

He remained under a little longer, deciding how to exit the seal, till he looked up and saw a glistening above which broke through the depth.

Gaara swam upwards, his small arms pulling him above, till he broke the surface of the water. Breathing underwater wasn't a problem, but when his head emerged, he still took in a deep breath of air.

And it was as he pushed himself onto solid ground, that he noticed everything had changed.

The upside-down desert was gone, and in its place, were _trees._ Hundreds of them.

The trees were made of translucent shale and the leaves, polished stone. The canopy reflected the flushed hues of the twilight sky, bouncing iridescent light in between the branches. It looked a lot like the trees in Konoha. He lived in a desert and saw the great sands of wind country everyday but…Gaara liked these trees.

His own forest of glass.

The ninja turned back to look at where he had swam out of, and found a small circular pond, only five meters in diameter. The small body of water looked nothing like the mass of ocean Gaara had just emerged from. From above, it looked like a tranquil water pool in the middle of an oasis.

He peered over the edge, and saw Shukaku's massive form deep down in the pool, chained and in a deep sleep.

He knew that Ichibi's sleeping state was only temporary; he would have to get his seal checked soon if he wanted any kind of permanent security from Shukaku's insanity. He just didn't know if that was possible, _right now_ in this timeline.

Suddenly, exhaustion spread through Gaara's body so fast that in only a few moments, his consciousness sank into blackness and then bloomed back into bright light.

Thus Sabaku no Gaara found himself naked on his bathroom floor.

The weightlessness from his mindscape was gone, and now he felt _extra_ heavy.

With aching slowness, the young ninja stood up and grabbed the towel to cover his waist. In a few minutes he had changed into fresh clothes and walked back into his small room. It felt as if he was dragging his body through mud. The exhaustion he had felt in his mind amplified several times in the real world, and the genin found himself practically crawling into his bed.

Not bothering to dry his hair or cover himself with his blanket, Gaara slipped into the first real sleep in a long time.

III

There were always at least two ANBU guarding the Kazekage’s children.

Temari and Kankuro had been shadowed by invisible protectors ever since they could remember. The ANBU constantly ensured the safety of the Kazekage's legacy.

The youngest, and most dangerous son was no exception.

Gaara had twice as many guards tailing him where ever he went - on maximum alert - 24 hours a day. But unlike the ANBU that protected the jinchuuriki's siblings, these ANBU did not _protect_ , their aim was to _defend_.

They guarded - not the boy - but the people _from_ the jinchuuriki.

As the years went by, even the ANBU did not bother to fight the child; it was no use battling against powers they had no advantage over. So if the boy ever went into his episodic rages, their main job was to set up defense perimeters and _stall_ the jinchuuriki till the Fourth Kazekage arrived.

That meant all ANBU watching over the jinchuuriki had reduced their life expectancy by seventy percent.

If the vessel went on a killing spree, life expectancy was reduced to ninety-five percent.

The remaining five percent were the unlucky ninjas who survived, but came out _so_ physically damaged, that they could not resume their shinobi careers.

ANBU headquarters had noted that all mission associated with the combat and capture of the jinchuuriki were listed as S-Rank or A-Rank minimum. All mission linked to the guarding and tailing of Sabaku no Gaara were listed under potential _suicide mission_. The statistic were not official, but were universally acknowledged by all members of Suna’s black ops.

Eventually, their leader decided to reduce the guard detail since it was decidedly a waste of resource.

But now and then, one ANBU would take a solo mission to check up on the boy and report back to the Kazekage.

These were not common, but they had to be done. It seemed that tonight, one unlucky ANBU had been chosen to have night watch over the demon child.

It was midnight by the time the silent ANBU stationed himself on the opposite roof of the jinchuuriki's window. The young demon child was known to be very inactive at night time and was noticeably calmer with the rise of the desert moon. The vessel would sit by the window for hours on end till the sun rose. Sometimes the vessel trained in one of the old training grounds, completely ignoring the ANBU watching him.

Tonight however, the ANBU who was on watch became very uneasy by the time it hit half-past-two.

He could feel the jinchuuriki's chakra, but there was next to no movement. Not even a shift in the air.

There was very little the ANBU could see from where he was sitting, but the open window had caught him by surprise. The ANBU on watch was seasoned despite his young age. He learned that _instinct_ was probably the only thing a ninja could rely on when logic had been thrown out the window. So after a slow analysis of the situation and a _long_ internal debate, the stealthy ANBU gracefully perched himself on the ledge of the jinchuuriki's circular window.

The ANBU peered into the room.

A moment later, the ANBU found himself wishing upon all deities that he had never looked inside.

The jinchuuriki was positioned in a graceless sprawl, face half buried in its pillow while the other half peeked out, flushed with moonlight.

The ANBU immediate became rigid and prepared himself for possible combat.

All training lessons that involved the jinchuuriki were surrounded by the one intel that if the demon became loose, either by lack of control or sleep, immediately prepare for an S-Rank level battle. The next thing ANBU were trained to do was to establish at least one ANBU to notify back-up squadrons while the others kept it at bay.

The ANBU was now completely at loss as to what he should do.

He did not move, his fingers clenched tight around the window sill, his body in a half defensive and half offensive stance. His instincts were telling him to run, but his eyes and logic were telling him there was no need.

It was three in the morning by the time the shadowy ANBU silently ghosted over to the prone figure. The regular deep breathing indicated the jinchuuriki was indeed asleep.

He peered at the sleeping child with increasing curiosity, a reluctant interest blooming from an unknown place. He really should leave. But instead, the soldier inched closer.

The demon looked...small. Maybe even a little soft and almost on the squishy side, like a porcelain cub. It was unnerving.

Without thinking, the ANBU lifted his hand over the boys head, but a wave of sand immediately prevented further intrusion of the jinchuuriki's space.

The child did not wake up.

The ANBU extracted his heartbeat out of his throat.

Enough. He was dancing on the line unprofessionalism. As the ANBU took a step back to return to his previous outpost, something broke under his sandals. The crunch was agonizingly loud in the small room.

His blood ran cold when the jinchuuriki snapped his eyes open.

The ANBU’s entire body was violently flung across the room by a wave of unrelenting sand. His slid down the wall and landed into the furniture below like a discarded rag doll. His vision blurred and the sudden hammering in his head danced to the beat of his panic. All he saw was sand; encompassing, suffocating and gloriously monstrous.

The blanket of pale gold, wrapped around him like a coffin.

Oh spirits, he knew what would happen next. His initial terror guided the ANBU into a grim calm. He decided that he was going to be another dead ninja added to the statistics.

So with that fatalistic sentiment in mind, the ANBU shut his eyes, and waited for the final crushing.

III

A haziness Gaara was not familiar with fogged up his mind. Like cotton stuck behind his eyes.

Then, there was a noise.

He reacted out of instinct and began to lash his sand out at the possible threat. It was all very fast as the jinchuuriki’s body adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation of sleep. He was barely even aware of the ANBU now bleeding on the floor, sprawled gracelessly among his crushed furniture.

However, it was the mask of the ANBU that snapped Gaara out of his sleep induced daze.

_Kitsune._

As suddenly as he lashed out, the sand receded at his command.

The ANBU remained still in his half sitting position, breath labored as a startling amount of red dripped to the floor.

There was a time where Gaara’s mouth would have watered at the sight of the blood, his lust anticipating the carnage that would soon follow. But now, all he felt was a sudden chill of alarm and shame.

This was not supposed to happen. Not after he had just vowed to never let his control slip. He was supposed to _protect_ , not kill. He was supposed to be the defense, the shield, not the flesh-hungry, failure of a weapon. Gaara seethed at himself for a moment until he gathered his wits and ripped the edge of his sheets into a single strip.

The ANBU sat quietly and unmoving.

He could feel the soldier’s eyes tracking his movements as he approached. The shinobi, while on alert, didn’t bother to move away. _He expects to die_ , Gaara realised with bitterness. It left a chalky taste in the boy’s mouth.

He pushed his mood away and crouched down to eye-level. Without asking for permission, he reached out to inspect the bleeding arm. It was when Gaara moved to touch the exposed wound, that the ANBU made his first violent movement.

A flash of moon light reflected off the kunai that slashed just under his chin.

Gaara swiftly leaned backwards and easily knocked the weapon out of the ANBU's hand. With a single motion, he pinned down the man’s arm against the wall and firmly placed his small, but powerful hands against his throat.

The ANBU stilled.

Without losing a moment, Gaara began to wrap the cloth around the bleeding bicep. It was a shallow wound, but it had produced an alarming amount of blood – stiches would be needed.

A few seconds later, the small hands finished wrapping the wound and gently inspected the other injuries. His touch was methodical and clinical, never lingering in areas the shinobi would instinctively find threatening. He didn’t look at the masked face during his inspection. There were definitely more injuries under the clothes, but he was not going to push his luck. Whether the ANBU was in shock or not, the soldier would definitely attack if he tried removing his armor. 

Gaara finally stood back up, and backed away from the ANBU who sat unnaturally still. With deliberate slow movements, as if trying not to startle a cornered creature, Gaara inched back to his bed.

On his way, the genin picked up the object the ANBU had unwittingly broke.

It was a frame.

A picture of a pale haired woman stared through the shattered glass – a gentle smile and kind eyes framed by broken edges. Gaara stared for a moment, a little surprised to see it in his room, then placed it back on his bedside table.

Without looking back at the baffled ANBU, Gaara cocooned himself under his sheets and closed his eyes.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was improvised from the beginning and there’s no distinct plot except for a hazy image in my head. But the response from my readers has made this project incredibly fun to write. So thank you everyone!
> 
> I should probably start planning this thing out.
> 
> Keep it real guys.
> 
> CADEL


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

The next morning, Gaara tried his best at fixing his room by sweeping away signs of debris and splinters of wood from his flattened table.

Rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes, Gaara trudged back into the bathroom to freshen up. It didn’t take long to realise that he was poorly accustomed to the fogginess that came with too much sleep. Even when he had been older, he did not make sleeping a nightly habit.

When he looked at the reflection in the mirror, Gaara mapped the tattoo on his forehead.

The ink was still as red as the day it carved itself into his skin.

Staring down at his smaller hands, Gaara wondered how much he'll have to train just to feel satisfied that he was good enough to protect himself and those around him. He was well aware of his body's limits at age eleven. There was no point promising to be a protector when he wasn't strong enough to live up to his nindo.

He had time now, and that gave him some comfort.

But for now, the genin’s main concern was breakfast. With that sentiment, Gaara made his way to the lower parts of the house while in deep thought. He failed to notice his sister in the kitchen when he entered.

III

All three siblings had different morning schedules.

Temari was an early riser. Her mornings started with stretches and simple katas to warm up her muscles for the day. Then after a quick shower, she had the kitchen all to herself.

Kankuro was happy to roll out of bed at noon. Maybe even later if possible. Then the genin would find something to eat outside because he was never bothered make his own breakfast.

Late or early, Temari and Kankuro never saw Gaara in the mornings. Their paths never crossed, whether by design or accident.

Gaara came and went as he pleased, he ate and trained whenever he wished, and never stuck around the house for longer than necessary. Their home was merely a pit stop, and with no sleep, Temari imagined Gaara’s entire life to be one _long_ day.

So she nearly dropped her knife when her youngest brother entered the room, nearly bumping into her as moved past the kitchen counter.

Temari held onto her butter knife, not entirely sure if she should put it down or not. After a few moments, she shook her head and placed it back on the counter. She did it as quietly as possible, suddenly having the paranoia of being too loud.

She watched Gaara from the corner of her eye as he walked towards the fridge and stared into it for a moment before his head disappeared behind the door. The whole way through, he ignored her, which she was grateful for.

The kunoichi looked down at her bread slices and decided to quickly finish making her breakfast. But a moment later she noted that all the ingredients that she required were in the fridge...the same fridge that Gaara was taking an awful amount of time digging through.

She silently cursed her luck and fidgeted with the butter knife while waiting awkwardly for Gaara to leave.

After a few long moments, Gaara's red hair poked out from the fridge door with a carton of orange juice and a...cucumber? Temari blinked at the odd fruit. 

Even when her brother shut the door, she still couldn't go to the fridge because Gaara was blocking the way while looking through the cupboard above it.

Gaara’s presence filled the space and it felt like she was invading _his_ space, so she sat back down on the kitchen stool and made herself look busy.

The kunoichi sighed. She was being ridiculous.

It was a moment later when she realised that Gaara had stopped moving and looked up to investigate the cause of the abrupt silence. She was startled to find a pair of pale green staring at her.

Those eyes slowly shifted lower till they landed on Temari's hands and the butter knife she picked up again at some point. The kunoichi tensed, but quickly shook her nervousness away. She was a ninja; she _always_ had weapons on her so a butter knife wouldn’t be seen as anything more than what it was.

Temari was first to look away and fiddled with the slices of bread in front of her. The following noise of closing cupboard doors indicated that Gaara had resumed his business as well.

Before Temari contemplated leaving her breakfast entirely, two jars were suddenly placed in front of her.

She blinked then stared down at the two glass containers.

Apricot jam and peanut butter. Gaara was standing in front of her almost expectantly, waiting for her to take it. When she didn’t, he pushed the two jars towards her. “Here.”

She looked back up at her brother only to find he was already sitting across her, pouring orange juice in his glass cup and crunching away at that ridiculous green thing.

Pushing away her surprise that he hadn’t already left the room, Temari muttered a quiet, "Thank you" and began making her sandwich.

When Temari finished spreading her jam and butter, she spent an uncomfortable amount of time contemplating whether she should leave. Normally, she would have let Gaara do his business in peace but she felt it would be a little rude this time to just walk away. Eventually, she reasoned that he _did_ help her, so Temari stayed and pretended he appreciated her company.

It was a novel experience indeed.

There were little seeds stuck to Gaara’s cheek as he bit into his cucumber, unaware that his sister was watching him.

Temari was the oldest out of the three of them, and she remembered Gaara when he was much younger. She remembered thinking he looked a lot like their father, but with their mother’s complexion and her delicate mouth line.

Temari barely had any of her father’s features. She’s been told that she took after her mother and paternal grandfather. She was fair haired like her mother too, something she took unusual pride in.

Gaara was all burnt red hair, the colour of too much iron and rust.

They did look alike, she thought. It was just hard to see when her brother’s face was twisted and angry.

She took a small bite from her sandwich as she glanced once more at her brother.

He must have been lonely. He must _still_ be lonely. After a moment, Temari banished the thought. It wasn’t practical to think that way. Gaara was dangerous and there was no denying that. But Temari observed his oversized cup of orange juice and suddenly it hard to find the creature crawling behind his face.

She sighed. She was losing her appetite. 

Gaara finished his drink and abruptly stood up, startling Temari out of her thoughts.

It was an odd moment to notice that Gaara’s hair was sticking up in an odd place near his ear, like the kind she got when she slept in a bad position. A secret smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as she mauled over the idea of scary Gaara having bad bed hair. That cow-lick looked impressive.

Gaara was starting to leave when Temari suddenly felt she had to say something before he left.

"Er...will you be joining us for the team meeting today?"

Her brother stopped at the threshold and turned his head a little so Temari could only see a bit of his right eye staring back at her. For a few seconds, he did nothing and continued looking at her making her feel distinctly uncomfortable. She was not surprise when he continued to ignore her and began walking away.

But just before he completely disappeared, Temari heard him answer.

"Maybe."

She blinked at his response, then a moment later, continued her breakfast.

III

The librarian watched the boy with curiosity.

Gaara’s small figure was hunched over stacks of books in Suna's library, and he was so absorbed in his reading that he did not notice the apprehensive stares shot his way. Or perhaps he _did_ know, and if so, he had been ignoring them for the last couple of hours as he poured over book after book.

The librarian of Suna was an elderly man with an impressive beard that seem to be so long, it came off as comical in all respects.

Perhaps if he had been a magician, it would make more sense.

Gaara on the other hand, was ignoring the world around him as he skimmed through book after book, scroll after scroll.

Very few seemed promising in aiding his understanding on his very strange predicament. There had been a few books that listed theories and half-cooked ideas about time-travel, but none that really seemed very plausible in practical context. Others actually listed jutsus that seem to function on time and space, but they were few and did not seem to be all that true to time travelling itself. There would be moments when Gaara would stumble onto something that gleaned some insight, but then it would be cut short or turn into some bizarre theory that honestly made no sense.

Gaara sighed and shut another tome and rubbed his forehead.

He didn’t think it would be easy, but his lack of progress was frustrating. The idea itself was completely possible, but actually performing it was another thing entirely.

But that was just the problem.

Gaara had _not_ performed anything. At least he didn’t think so.

His memory was still fuzzy on anything leading up to the moment he arrived in the past, but he was certain that this was not his doing. He had neither the power nor the skill to execute such an ambitious jutsu. That was _if_ it was a jutsu at all.

Perhaps a seal?

Gaara's mind immediately flashed to the Yondaime, but he was dead. Maybe an Uzumaki with knowledge of the sealing arts? But that was practically a dead end as well. Naruto’s clan was spread far and wide, their knowledge almost completely lost.

The only person Gaara could actually have an intellectual discussion on seals in _this_ time, which wasn't dead or dying, would be Jiraiya the Sannin.

Gaara had to push down the urge to groan in frustration.

Jiraiya might as well be dead because he knew that the old man could not be found unless he _wanted_ to be found...or if you were a naked woman in a hot spring. And Gaara most certainly was not a nude bathing woman.

Gaara had always known that just looking in Suna's library would not be enough. Its resources were limited and the more dangerous information would not be privy to the public. If he was still the Kazekage, Gaara would have checked the private archives, but as an eleven year-old genin, it would be near impossible despite his knowledge of the archives tight security.

Gaara unrolled another scroll and began reading once more.

He'll have to finish soon for the day, it was almost eleven am and his stomach was already beginning to ache in hunger.

That was another adjustment to his new body. He was hungry all the time, but he felt no desire to gorge himself with food.

Gaara was also dismayed by his body's lack of endurance for the simplest tasks. As a fully grown ninja, Gaara had been able to go days without food, but now, he was stuck in a child's body that seemed to be softer than he remembered.

The jinchuuriki’s attention moved to the sound of rustling robes and the scent of dust and paper.

"You keep staring at my scrolls like that they're gonna catch fire."

There was an old man, balancing a dangerous amount of books stacked almost sky high in his arms as he grinned down at Gaara. The eccentric librarian with the ridiculous beard.

Gaara had been aware that the old librarian had been watching him the entire time he’d been there – staring at him at different intervals, shamelessly watching without bothering to hide his staring. Like the way he was currently staring at Gaara at the moment.

He gave the young Kazekage a cheery smile that honestly threw Gaara back a bit. "If you keep staring at _me_ like that, _I'll_ catch fire." he chuckled lightly as he placed the precarious books on the table. "Now, is there something in particular you wanted help with? You look a bit overwhelmed."

All Gaara did was blink at him, completely thrown by the man's jovial but blunt manner.

"No, I'm fine." Gaara finally answered quietly.

"Alrighty then." the old man smiled. "Can I ask what a young man like you doing cooped up in a dusty library on a day like this?"

Gaara paused but answered truthfully. "Researching."

The old man twisted his beard around his fingers as he peered over the books sprawled over the table. "Hmmm...You wouldn't be a ninja would you?"

Gaara just nodded and continued to stare at the scroll in his hands.

"Well, whatever your researching it doesn't seem like you'll find what you're looking for." he picked up the nearest book on the table and stared at the cover. "Yup...ain't gonna find nothin'."

Gaara looked up at the man quizzically. "I wasn’t aware you knew what I was researching."

The old man just laughed and was now braiding his white beard happily. Gaara wondered if the man was entirely sane.

"Oh, you can call it a bookworm's intuition. This is my library and I know every book in here and its content." he beamed at Gaara as he began to braid another line of plaits in his beard. "And from the look of the books you've have got here...I suspect that it hasn't got you very far. Too many topics, too many sub contents mixing with scrolls and books of different disciplines. Am I right?"

Gaara just stared at the eccentric librarian and sighed.

"Yes."

"Well then there's no point looking anymore." He looked over the titles of the tomes again and nodded to himself. "Space-Time eh?"

Gaara looked up sharply at the old man, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

"You're putting me on fire again," he laughed completely brushing of the sudden hostility. "Well, rather ambitious aren't we. You lookin' for sake of research or looking for answers of passion?"

Gaara just looked back confused.

The old librarian laughed. "You know what you should do? You should ask me something."

The red-haired boy just stared blankly at the jovial man.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Perhaps I can help you," he said while picking his ears which had visible white hair growing out of it.

Gaara inwardly sighed again but decided to humor the old man.

"I’m researching possibilities of time-jumping to the past and manifesting consciousness in a younger body. Is it possible and how can it be done?”

 The librarian just stared at Gaara with a strangely blank look then started to laugh.

The young jinchuuriki remained unmoved by the old man’s outburst as he continued to stare at the senile man.

"That's stupid!” he wheezed holding on to his stomach.

Gaara sighed again at his own misguided hope in the old man.

"You shouldn't be looking at _how_ you got there but _what_ it all means," he suddenly answered completely serious but still with a jovial smile on his old face.

Gaara raised one none existent eye-brow. “What do you mean?”

"Well...if _I_ was this person, then I would focus on the now. Finding the ‘how’ in the grand scheme of things isn’t really important.”

Gaara blinked in confusion.

The librarian began to explain again. "It's like asking how you got to your aunt’s house. ‘Well sir, I used a horse' but that don't matter does it? What's important is what you are going to do when you get to your aunts house."

Gaara was frowning a little. "What if you need to go _back_ and the only way to do it is to find how you arrived in the first place?"

"Go back?" he shook his head. "No stay! Aunty can make the best dishes and she'll be a nice hostess!"

Gaara was a goldmine of knowledge that could be used to shape the outcomes of events yet to happen. It meant he had the upper hand against the Akatsuki and Orochimaru and could prevent the death of countless people.

But Gaara was not stupid.

He was not god.

And some part of Gaara was a coward.

He was intellectually mature enough to see the pros, but there were such severe repercussions that honestly, it was not worth it.

The genin rubbed his eyes. He could feel a headache starting to form in his head.

He turned to look back at the senile man and asked genuinely curious. "What would you do?"

"Huh? What would I do? I'd run. My aunt's a she-devil. I wouldn't stick around that woman or get my horse anywhere near her. Thank god she's dead." he added bluntly but grinned again. "But I like you, I wouldn't run from you."

The young jinchuuriki wasn't entirely sure if this man knew who he was, because no person in the entire Wind Country would say they wouldn't run from Gaara.

"If you're smart, you would." Gaara stated finally.

"Well, I'm gonna get some lunch so I'll be closing the library for one hour." the old man informed abruptly, completely ignoring Gaara's last statement. "You done kid?"

Gaara nodded and stood. There wasn't much he could do and the old man seemed to have made the jinchuuriki more confused than when he had come in. Gaara began to stack the books and place them on the return trolley.

The whole way through, the old librarian twiddled with his beard at stared at Gaara with an incredibly concentrated expression.

"You know...there's something about you...I can't seem to put my finger on it..." his eyes were narrow in inspection Gaara's face. “I couldn't help but wonder..."

The jinchuuriki tensed. It would be a few moments until he would be cast out with hostile eyes.

The eccentric old man suddenly leaned into Gaara's personal space and the boy had to control his sand to not shoot upwards.

With a seriousness fit for a funeral, the librarian asked, "Why don't you have eyebrows?"

III

"Come on, let spar!" Kankuro shouted.

Temari just glanced at her brother with a bored look that said she was not amused. "We already did. You lost."

"You cheated."

"Did not, I won fair and square."

"You used your wind jutsu to knock me off! You said only Taijutsu. Come on, rematch!" Kankuro was fidgeting with the hem of his black shirt as he goaded his sister.

"Don't be such a sore loser Kankuro. Besides we're supposed to be waiting for Baki-Sensei.” she explained calmly. She watched Kankuro continue to bounce on the spot like he had ants in his clothes. "What wrong with you today, did you have too much cactus juice? You're acting all jumpy."

Kankuro stopped at her words. "Am not." he turned to look up at the sky. "Just...got a bad feelin' this morning." the boy's eyes narrowed. "My guts telling me something's gonna happen."

Temari just raised an amused eyebrow at him. "Going all sage on me are you?"

The puppeteer scowled at her. "Whatever. Just hope sensei gets here soon."

Temari discreetly watched Kankuro lean against the wall, and felt a little guilty for initiating a Taijutsu match. She was well aware that Kankuro still had his wounded leg to worry about and noticed a very small limp every time he used his right leg. She had asked him flippantly if he was alright, but he insisted he didn't feel anything.

The kunoichi sighed at boys and their pride.

Kankuro on the other hand was still trying to push down the strange feeling in his gut. The puppeteer wasn't superstitious, but he relied on his instincts as all ninja do and couldn't ignore the nape of his neck standing on ends for the last two days.

The puppeteer frowned at his sister.

"What’s with you?" Kankuro finally demanded.

Temari looked over to him with a questioningly look. "What?"

"You've been staring over your shoulder for the last twenty minutes." he explained still looking up at the sky.

Temari blinked then mimicked her brother by staring up at the expanse of blue overhead. "Have I?" she murmured. "I guess...I was seeing if Gaara was going to show up."

Kankuro cocked his head to the side in bafflement. 

"Why would you think that? Gaara never shows up for our regular meetings, he only comes for missions or if Baki-Sensei orders all of us to have group training."

Temari remained unmoved until she shrugged an answered. "He told he might be coming today."

Kankuro blinked. "He _told_ you?"

Temari nodded. "Yeah, this morning at breakfast."

" _Breakfast?_ " Kankuro added incredulously.

"Yeah I know." Temari relied while scratching her neck. "I asked him and he said 'maybe'." she shrugged again. "Whatever, as long as he's in control it doesn't matter. Besides we're in need of some team training anyway."

Kankuro didn't like group training with Gaara. It was bad enough that he had to sleep with one eye open when they went on mission together, but actually having to train with the demonic sand was enough to make him run for the hills.

The only thing good about being in the company of Gaara on an almost daily bases, was the fact that Kankuro had developed alert senses that was practically non-existent before he joined their genin team. Both Kankuro and Temari had also been forced to train their long-range defensive and offensive maneuvers to almost perfection, for the sole purpose of surviving if Gaara decided to indulge his needs.

"Let’s hope not." Kankuro mumbled.

It was a moment later when Baki-Sensei suddenly approached them from behind. "Sorry for the delay, I was speaking to the Kazekage."

Kankuro looked up expectantly. "Are we having a mission?"

Baki just shrugged at the boy’s question. "Probably not. We were discussing political matters, nothing that concerns our team."

Kankuro deflated at that and began training their katas under the supervision of their sensei.

Baki continued to adjust and fix issues in their forms, but the siblings didn’t need much improvement. Soon afterwards, he ordered Temari and Kankuro to demonstrate their individual styles.

Temari has raw skills with her wind element, but was wasting far too much chakra when she exerted them though her war-fan.

Kankuro's chakra control was excellent but his range was poor when using his puppets.

After assessing their flaws, he assigned them a week to fix their problems and then demonstrate their improved techniques.

Baki realised he should have asked one of them specifically to start, because both siblings dished out their techniques at the same time causing a great deal of rubble splitting out of the ground.

Baki armored himself with his chakra, but a great deal of it went flying over head toward a presence he had recently detected. It seemed both Kankuro and Temari had noticed too.

To the horror of all three ninja, the debris went flying directly toward Gaara, who was sitting upon a boulder not too far away.

Sand immediate shot up and guarded the boy from the flying rocks. Gaara didn't even twitch a muscle as the debris rolled off his sand wall and fell to the ground in graceless mounds.

The dust finally settled, but Temari and Kankuro were so wide-eyed that they didn't notice. Baki remained unmoving to observe the extent of damage the two genin had foolishly caused. He greatly hoped Gaara was in a good mood today because he didn't want to explain to the Kazekage why his children were dead.

After three seconds of cold silence, they watched Gaara slowly shift his sand lower to reveal his face.

When the sand completely disappeared, the boy remained on his boulder, sitting like nothing had happened and stared off into space with all the excitement of a dead fish.

After another few uncomfortable moments, Baki finally cleared his throat. "Er...powerful attacks but I think you should work on your communication. Your techniques are useless if you end up killing yourself from flying debris. Not a very impressive way to go" The Jounin added bluntly.

Both siblings ducked their head and nodded demurely.

Baki sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Again. This time Kankuro begin _then_ Temari."

Both obliged obediently after taking a surreptitious glance at Gaara, who still remained unmoving on his boulder with his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

The training session lasted for another four hours with Baki-Sensei making the two genin switch from their Taijutsu katas to ninjutsu sparring. He assessed their improvements and weaknesses without giving them any indication of his final judgment.

The whole time, Gaara did not move from his spot on the boulder. He did not join the training or utter a single word.

He just watched, his eyes tracking their movements.

It was unnerving for both Temari and Kankuro. Now and then, Baki glanced at Gaara. He noticed that Gaara did not have his customary gourd on his back. Baki had only managed to get the boy to be involved in group trainings a couple times, and those were if Gaara was in complete control and was feeling lenient.

The Jounin sighed. Baki decided to never take another genin team after this one...and that was _if_ he survived.

III

Gaara had forgotten about Baki's team meetings.

He remembered only because of Temari’s reminder. He rarely participated in the past, but Gaara decided that he would show up this time. If he was going to be working with them, he wanted to accurately assess their skill level.

It had been a long time since he had worked in a three-man cell, and Gaara could hardly remember what Kankuro and Temari had been capable of at age thirteen and fifteen.

He had the utmost confidence in their skills, but that was when they had been _older_ and far more experienced.

Watching them now, he could see a ghost image of their potential imprinted in their movements, which was still too raw and green. They had a long way to go.

Whether he would accelerate their training himself, was still a question in the young Kazekage's mind, but for now he would only observe. It would do no good if he started to get too helpful, and it was even less likely that his siblings would take his advice anyway.

At least not now.

He looked at his hands that were too small. Thin fingers with knobby joints.

A musician’s hands, Tsunade once pointed out when she had too much to drink, in between war tents and buried bodies.

Gaara tightened his hands into fists.

Watching with calculating eyes, he hoped for his siblings to turn into the powerful and reliable ninja they would soon become.

.

.

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for making it this far!
> 
> I don’t really like OC’s, but since Suna is such an unknown element I decided to create them as foil character and catalyst for the story.
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts, your reviews are always welcome.
> 
> CADEL


	6. Chapter 6

 

Kankuro had only just managed to work out some of the kinks within his puppets when his youngest brother came knocking on his door.

To say the young puppeteer was alarmed was a grave understatement.

"Can I come in?"

Gaara stared expectantly while Kankuro floundered at threshold of his room, wondering if he should invite his terribly unstable little brother into his workshop - which he really didn't.

"Ah...yeah." the young genin stuttered.

His younger brother stepped in without glancing at Kankuro, and stopped when he reached the middle of the room. Kankuro just stared back at his door, wondering if he should close it or leave it open for a quick escape.

Kankuro observed as Gaara’s eyes darted around the room to search for something. The puppeteer waited uneasily till the younger genin headed to one of his workshop tables. Gaara pull out a couple of draws till he found a brown leather wrap rolled up in strings. With a quick flick, he unrolled it and began setting out the contents on the worktop.

A dull set of kunai and shuriken lay evenly on the table, the blades rough and blunt with age and disuse.

Kankuro broke in a cold sweat as he realised that he was now stuck in a room with Gaara and a pile of weapons. The young puppeteer became suddenly aware of every twitch the jinchuuriki made.

Small fingers brushed against the cool surface of the old weapons, pale green eyes inspected them curiously before swiftly picking up a kunai and cutting a small line into the pad of his thumb.

The smallest drop of blood oozed from the cut and ran down Gaara’s small fingers, pooling in the sink of his palm.

Kankuro, who had been sitting quietly on the chair a few meters away, was now pushing down his flight instincts with such intense fierceness, that he was sure there were nail indentations on his palm. His cold sweat, now accompanied with fearful anticipation, held his stomach in a vice grip that frankly made him want to throw up.

The cut in his leg throbbed

Gaara’s attack three days ago was fresh in his mind, and the taste of demon intent was still stuck in his throat. It was definitely too soon to be sharing the same room.

“Do you have any sharper ones?” Gaara asked quietly as he rubbed away the blood from his hands.

 _No! No I don’t!_ Was all Kankuro wanted to say, but instead he answered, “Ah, yeah, in the bottom draw...”

Gaara indeed found more weapons, but they were only a little sharper than the ones he found previously. They were good enough to injure, but they had to be sharpened if they would be of any proper use.

Something shifted in the air, and Kankuro found himself backed away in a defensive stance when Gaara’s demonic sand shot out from nowhere. Too many years of experience had left Kankuro vigilantly reactive to the sound.

But it only took a moment to register that his concerns were premature. There was no crashing or crushing.

Gaara hovered his hands over the sets of kunai and shuriken, and then cocooned them gently with his sand. They danced around the metal, almost soft and _fluttery._ Seconds later _,_ the sand disappeared, revealing a newly polished and sharpened set of gleaming weapons on his table. Each blade shone, sharpened to a hairline edge that could cut through stone.

The young jinchuuriki swiftly rolled up the set of newly polished weapons and bound them back in its leather wrap.

“Can I borrow these?” Gaara asked as he turned to look at his older brother.

Kankuro blinked, then nodded as he moved out of his defensive stance.

The tense silence was broken when Kankuro heard a loud rumble. For a moment, the puppeteer was genuinely baffled, then eyed Gaara stomach. The young jinchuuriki was also looking down at his stomach with confusion. After a moment, he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a little box of dried jerky and nibbled on the tough meat as he moved across the room.

Somewhere in the back of Kankuro’s head, he unnecessarily noted the box was pink.

He almost missed Gaara suddenly stopping by his door.

Slowly, his younger brother moved towards Kankuro's table and after a moment of hesitation, placed his box of jerky on his workshop table. He would never know that it was Gaara’s awkward attempt at an apology.

With the bundle of newly polished weapons, Gaara finally strolled out, leaving his older brother to stare after him.

Kankuro eyed the meat that was left behind with caution, but after some inspection, he decided it was indeed just a bundle of jerky.

Kankuro decided that whatever went on in the mind of his insane brother was something he was not going to understand any time soon.

So he picked up the meat and threw it in the bin.

III

Gaara traced his thumb against the sharp blades, then eyed his targets.

His weapons were all lodged dead-centre.

Yet Gaara still felt uncomfortably underprepared.  Almost all the strength and skills he had honed as an older shinobi had vanished. His hand-eye skills were acceptable, but woefully weak in strength. He had always been a long range fighter with little need for close combat. After the chūnin exams, the jinchuuriki could suddenly feel the effects of neglecting his katas in favour of his sand.

He asked Kankuro to lend him his old set of weapons purely because Gaara wanted an excuse to see his brother’s workshop. He had to assess how Kankuro was progressing with his mechanism designs for his puppets. It seemed that his brother had already designed the initial prototypes of the puppets he would be using frequently in the future.

The Kankuro of the future was rather different to his brash, rude and over-confidant brother of this age – similar, but not nearly as grounded, and Gaara could not go to him for council. He wished for a brotherly ear to listen to him now.

He had forgotten how afraid his siblings had been at this time in their lives. It was sobering to see that kind of fear and hesitance in people he considered family. Of course in this time, no one knew Gaara actually had the desire to be considered benevolent but he’ll have to reap what he sowed. It was mildly comforting knowing that Gaara now had a small chance to correct the wrongs he made in his first life.

But how far could he take it? How much was he allowed or willing to change? These were questions that Gaara knew he had no answers to.

His musing was cut short when something rolled and tapped the side of leg.

Looking down to inspect, Gaara found a red ball at his feet. Pale green eyes could only stare at the object in weariness as memories from the past echoed dimly in his head.

III

_“Can I play too?” mumbled a shy Gaara._

Gaara scooped up the ball and looked around to see where it came from. He looked both left and right but no one came to retrieve it.

_The other children only stared and began shuffling away, their eyes wide and terrified by the little boy standing alone._

_“You can’t play with us!” They backed away further._

_Gaara held the ball tightly between his fingers. Why couldn’t he play with them? Couldn’t they tell he just wanted to be friends?_

He waited a little longer, but still, no one came and Gaara was oddly relieved by it. They probably wouldn’t want it back if they knew he had it.

_“My mother told me to stay away from him…” a girl whispered. “I heard he’ll crush you if you make him mad…”_

_Another added wearily. “I don’t like him…he makes me scared…”_

_The jinchuuriki tried to give a friendly smile, but it looked awkward and made of teeth. It only made him look unpleasant. And lonelier._

The jinchuuriki bounced it once, then twice and let it rest in his hands. There was an emblem stamped in the surface of the ball. ‘The Rising Sun – Sunagakure’. He knew the name.

_“Please?”_

_A heavy weight sank into his stomach, like bad medicine and charcoal. Gaara stood alone with a red ball between his hands, red as his hair, red as the blooming tightness his ribs._

_“Please?”_

He noted a trail was left in the ball’s path. He followed the dusty line and turned around the corner.

_In the end, there was still no one to play with. Who would want to listen to the pleas of a monster?_

_After all, monster’s mimic and lie._

_They wear your skin and pull your smile apart._

_Their pleas were fake. Those tears couldn’t be real._

III

House of the Rising Sun.

Gaara recognised it as the name for Suna’s orphanage.

The young Kazekage remembered a great deal about the establishment from his days as Suna’s Kazekage. He had been involved in a great deal of building and managing homes for orphaned children from the war. Despite having family members alive for most of his childhood, Gaara paradoxically had an orphan mindset.

In terms of family, he sometimes couldn’t relate to Kankuro and Temari, who remembered their mother and had a somewhat respectable relationship with their father. Gaara only knew animosity and indifference from his family for a long time. Yes, Gaara had always felt like an orphan at heart, and it was another thing that made him establish series of homes and better care for orphanages in his village.

The children of Suna were actually quite attached to Gaara…it still made very little sense to him, but his brother and sister found it hilarious.

Now staring up at the orphanage’s emblem, Gaara was hit with the same sense of pride he felt when he looked upon the new paint on the sign when he funded the establishment in the future. He would do it again.

Finding his legs were already moving towards the House of the Rising Sun, Gaara jumped to the roof and slipped quietly inside. The hallways were neat except for a few toys strewn about. There was a child here and there, moving about in the corridors, but gratefully none paid much attention to Gaara.

The back of the building had a small quadrant of playing space that had red sails shading the small area.

There were no children in sight, so Gaara took a seat on one of the small benches and gently bounced the ball in small dribbles, indulging himself a moment of peace.

It wasn’t that much later, when Gaara felt the presence of someone nearby.

He couldn’t see who it was, but they had been staring at Gaara for almost five minutes. Deciding to let them come to him in their own time, the jinchuuriki continued to dribble the ball in his hand.

After a moment, Gaara let the ball drop from his hand and rolled it towards the small figure watching him for the back door.

The red ball eventually stopped at the child’s feet.

He wasn’t much older than six, and was completely bare foot with a big scarf enveloping his shoulders and neck. The child looked down and after a long moment, the he picked up the ball and slowly made his way towards Gaara. The young child stepped closer, then held out the ball towards Gaara.

But the child was just a little too close - his movement were too sudden - that his sand automatically shot upwards, knocking the child to the floor.

Gaara went cold, then quickly reigned in his sand.

 _Still not enough control_. The jinchuuriki clenched his hand in frustration. His habitual need to defend himself was much harder to override than he liked to admit.

But it was too late. He had alerted the ANBU who had been tailing him. The guard suddenly appeared in front of the child in a protective stance.

Five seconds passed in tense silence as the ANBU and the young jinchuuriki assessed each other.

Gaara didn’t move an inch. He knew he wouldn’t do anything to harm the child, but nobody else would believe that. No one could allow themselves to be so trusting that they would drop their guard in front of Suna’s unstable demon vessel. No, Gaara would always be the bad guy to these people.

Surprisingly, the silence was broken by the child who had stood back up and dusted himself off. All he did was glance over at Gaara with curious eyes.

Suddenly, the overall appearance of the boy reminded Gaara of Sasori. The child had the unmistakable look of someone who had been alone for far too long and from an age that was far too young. He also reminded him a little of Naruto.

The orphan gave the ANBU a funny look, almost distrustful which was ironic. The demon mask probably didn’t help.

The red ball slowly rolled back to Gaara till it reached his feet. The jinchuuriki looked back at the child, as if he was something that held all the mysteries of the world.

He wanted to play with him? The jinchuuriki blinked, then obliged.

Without much thought, Gaara bounced the ball gently, causing the ANBU to tense, but the guard remained unmoving. The ball bounced too high, over the little child’s head. The orphan child ran after it and then bounced it back to Gaara.

The child had put too much force behind his next throw. He angled it wrong, because it didn’t go towards Gaara, but instead headed straight towards the ANBU still standing between them. Of course the ANBU caught it with ease and without even bothering to look.

Not a moment later, the ANBU found himself subjected to two intense and expecting stares of both the orphan child and the jinchuuriki.

“Oh dear!”

One of the female carers, which worked in the orphanage, dropped her box of toys as she opened the back door, and found all three of them in the playing yard.

The sight she saw was nowhere near normal or very comforting. She gasped at the homicidal jinchuuriki, the orphan child and an ANBU with a playing ball tucked under his elbow.

It just looked like some messed up game of piggy-in-the-middle.

A surreal moment passed by as all four stared at one another, unsure how to proceed.

The silence was broken when the ANBU suddenly dropped the ball and rolled it towards the child. He gave the jinchuuriki one last look, then the ANBU shunshin out of the yard.

Gaara knew he had already outstayed his welcome, so he gave the child a pat on the head and strolled pass the dumbstruck woman with a polite “Excuse me.”

Just before Gaara exited the building, he caught sight of a person standing near the outer gate, a woman with dark hair in twin braids. Her eyes remained on Gaara; there was weary apprehension and a dash of curiosity in her gaze. Gaara couldn’t recall where he had seen her before but she was familiar.

Not bothering to understand the woman’s behaviour, the young genin quickly jumped on the fence and began his way back to the training grounds.

III

The next morning, Kankuro decided to take the day off and shop through the junk yard markets to see if there was anything worth buying for his puppet designs.

But before he stepped out the door, he found a basket of freshly baked bread sitting in the doorstep of his home.

He blinked at it once then looked left and right to see if anyone was near. He lifted up the baked goods and gave it a cautious sniff. It was a little suspicious and there was high possibility that it was poisoned, but after his initial test, Kankuro found that the basket full of cheese rolls and bread cake were exactly that – a basket of pastries.

Deciding to ignore his initial suspicion, Kankuro bit into a sweet-bread bun and rolled it around his tongue.

After a moment, he took another one and then another one.

“So good.” He mumbled between breathing and inhaling pastries.

“What’s good?”

“Guess what I found Temari!” Kankuro turned around to his sister who was hovering over his shoulder and showed her the pastries. “Yummy stuff!”

The blonde kunoichi just gave a disgusted look at the way Kankuro was eating.

“That’s gross, stop talking with your mouth full.” Temari gave the basket a suspicious look but shrugged. If Kankuro was adamant in killing himself with bread rolls, then so be it. “Who’s it from?”

Kankuro shrugged and went back into the house to put on the kitchen table. “Dunno, didn’t have or a note or anything.”

“Are you stupid? Stop eating! For all we know it could be poisoned.” She reprimanded.

Kankuro shrugged. “They seem fine and even if they are poisoned, I don’t care. This kind of death I can handle.”

Temari just shot Kankuro a disbelieving look and shook her head. “Whatever.”

The puppeteer glanced at his sister and noted that she wasn’t in her ninja gear that morning. “Are you going somewhere?”

The blonde blinked then shrugged. “I was going to go to the markets. The Desert Moon Festival is in a few weeks and everyone’s already starting to prepare. I thought I should quickly get some stuff before everything runs out. It’s a damn hassle,” she sighed, “I can’t stand shopping for those annoying kimonos.”

Kankuro sat up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Is it already that time of year? Sheesh, time goes fast.” Then a lecherous grin appeared on his face. “But you know what that means right? Time to go hunting for a date!”

“Kankuro, you’re so sleazy, no girl would want a date with you.” She added bluntly.

 “Yeah well, you’ll probably scare the living daylights out of any guy that approaches you…doesn’t help that you’re the Kazekage’s daughter.” Kankuro retorted.

“Yeah well, I ain’t the scariest of the Kazekage’s children.” She mumbled, automatically thinking of Gaara.

Kankuro pouted. “You know, the prettiest girl was checking me out a few weeks back, pretty understandable seeing that my dashing looks and magnetic personality –” Temari scoffed. “But it didn’t go further than one date.” He sighed. “She's scared of Gaara, said she didn’t want to be near him and seeing as the _thing_ and I are brothers, she didn’t want to associate with me either.” After a moment of silence, Kankuro snorted. “Too bad for her.”

Temari rolled her eyes. “I don’t really care, just as long as Gaara doesn’t kill me, I’m all good.”

There had always been a harsh stigma branded on them since a young age, just for being Gaara’s siblings. They never really talked about it, but it was always there.

Temari found that making friends was not the easiest thing to do when you brother was the stuff of nightmares for over half the population. She was also the oldest, so she at least had some semblance of normality while her mother had been still alive, but after she died, things changed. Kankuro on the other hand, adapted well and took things in stride. He played things rather nonchalantly, but now and then, they both wished their younger brother could be just that…a younger brother.

Temari leaned on the kitchen counter and observed the basket. “Do…you think I should buy some clothes for him?”

Kankuro blinked and looked up questionably. “For who?”

“Gaara.” She answered.

Kankuro frowned in confusion. “Why the hell would you do that?”

Temari shrugged. “I dunno…just occurred to me that he wouldn’t have any festive clothes. It’s not like there’s a mother around here to do those things for him. He’s the youngest out of us three after all.”

Kankuro just looked at her like she grew another head.

“Temari…its _Gaara._ He wouldn’t go to the festivities anyway and if he did…well, I don’t really want to think about that either. You don’t have to be his mother, he already has one, and all she ever wants him to do is have _us_ for food.”

Temari just scowled at him. “I’m not trying to be his mother, I was just thinking out loud.” She propped her chin in her hand. “Whatever. I wasn’t talking seriously anyway. The quicker we become jounin, the better. That way we can finally be rid of him.”

Kankuro nodded. “Agreed.”

Upstairs, unknown to both the siblings, Gaara slowly turned away and shut his bedroom door. Pretending for a moment that he really was just a child, he hid himself within the confinements of his small room, and feigned sleep.

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You guys are the fuel to my fire.
> 
> CADEL


	7. Chapter 7

 

“Alright, that’s enough you two, you can take a rest.” Baki announced.

Both Temari and Kankuro huffed as they remain facing each other with their weapons of choice still at the ready, dust still settling around them in swirling clouds.

Kankuro lost twice and Temari lost twice, it was a draw.

Their sensei observe impassively as the pair fought it out and came to the conclusion that Temari and Kankuro knew each other offensive and defensive attacks too well, it was hard to gain an upper hand when they knew each other inside and out.

For Temari, it was frustrating being constantly attacked by Kankuro’s charka wire and strings, her brother played sneakier than she did.

Kankuro on the other hand knew most of his sister’s wind jutsu, but the sheer force of her attacks kept escalating against him.

“A draw again huh?” Temari commented while folding her war fan.

“Damn,” Kankuro cursed while spitting the sand from mouth. “Hey sensei, can’t I spar with you?”

The jounin turned to the young ninja. “Not until you’ve found a way to break through Temari’s wind barriers.”

“My puppets aren’t made to resist that kind of force so directly; in the end I spend most of my time dodging.” Kankuro explained.

“Then maybe that’s something you should focus on. Your puppets are versatile purely due to their adaptable nature, as weapons, they can be upgraded and changed as you wish, which will always be an advantage over any kunai or shuriken.” Baki elaborated. “And Temari you almost fell for his trap near the end but Kankuro’s puppets couldn’t evade your wind techniques that focuses on wide ranges, they simply aren’t fast enough to evade your attacks.”

Temari slipped her fan over her back and sighed.

“It doesn’t matter if he can dodge my attacks or not, we always reach a draw when we have all-out ninjutsu battles.” She brushed away the remaining dirt of her clothes, “Both Kankuro and I are long range fighters so we can only do so much fighting each other. Kankuro is stronger physically but I’m better in close combat so we cancel each other out again.”

Baki nodded. “Then you’ll have to have to deviate from each other. I expect both of you to begin enhancing whatever skills you specialise in _but_ also find ways to play off each other strengths and weaknesses.”

“Just wanna beat Temari the next time around, especially with a couple of upgrades I have in mind for Crow.” Kankuro added as he pulled himself up from his previous sitting position and packing his puppet away.

“Not like you could,” scoffed the blonde kunoichi. “Besides beating me isn’t your main objective, like Baki-Sensei said, in battle you’ll be my ally and I’ll have to know your strengths and weaknesses to be able to fight smoothly alongside you, not against you.”

“She’s correct Kankuro, besides you can only control one puppet at a time, isn’t that something you should be working on?” Baki added.

The young ninja grumbled something under his breath but nodded. “Yeah, I suppose.”

The older jounin gave Gaara a quick glance and found him to be still seated in the same place a few metres away.

Baki had been taking note of Gaara’s increasing turn ups to their training sessions. Temari and Kankuro also couldn’t ignore the intense presence of their youngest brother, sitting silent and still for hours without twitching a muscle.

He was like their personal gargoyle.

Despite the talk of teamwork, it was never something that could be truly implemented into the Sand Sibling Team, due to the fact that their third teammate didn’t understand the notion of teamwork. The fact that Gaara had even agreed to be placed within a team at all was nothing short of a small miracle.

Working with a Jinchuuriki was like working with a live fuse dangling over water. Eventually something will ignite the jinchuuriki’s temper which will spark oblivion for all of them. All you could do was hope it’ll be quick.

No doubt his puzzling behaviour was odder than usual and caused great discomfort. Baki on the other hand just kept a close eye on the boy, but he did no more than that.

“That’ll be all for now.” Baki began to walk away but stopped to inform them some news. “By the way, there will be some dignitaries visiting Suna today, I advise you to keep yourself well behaved and serve out your duties obediently. The Kazekage has important matters that need to be taken care of in the next two days, so it’s vital nothing implicates his negotiations.” The Jounin gave a quick glance towards Gaara.

Both Temari and Kankuro nodded. “Yes Sir.”

“Good, you’re dismissed for the day.”

Both siblings quickly made their way in the opposite directions which was quickly followed by their sensei. But before Baki completely left the training ground he turned to Gaara and decided to test his luck.

“Gaara…” the Jinchuuriki turned his eyes towards his sensei. “Perhaps you should join in next time.”

Nothing was said after that and student and teacher parted ways.

III

“I don’t see why we have to do this…aren’t there servants for these kind of things?” Kankuro grumbled distastefully as he watched the three noble sons speak briefly with their father and the Kazekage. “For god’s sake, I‘m a ninja, I should be training, not babysitting a bunch of stuck up nobles.”

Temari couldn’t agree more but decided she had to be the voice of reason.

“We’re ninja, but unfortunately we’re also the Kazekage’s children and with that come our duties as hosts to visiting nobles and our stand as a proxy for father in political and social occasions. It’s a bore but it can’t be avoided.”

“Fine,” Kankuro crossed his arms petulantly. “But why do we have to be their tour guides when someone else can do it…better yet, when they can do it themselves?”

Temari sighed. “Look, all we have to do is show them a few sights and keep them preoccupied until father finishes negotiations.”

Kankuro rolled his eyes and decided to mull over some knew designs for his puppets as they waited.

Both siblings had been hoping that they could spend their day off doing what they wanted after their morning session with Baki-Sensei. Unfortunately both of them had been summoned and informed that they’d be playing as companions and hosts to the three sons of the visiting noble from the south, both were not happy but knew that this was an unavoidable duty they had to perform. It was imperative that they didn’t disappoint their father with something so simple.

It was only a few moments later that the visiting noble and his three sons approached the silently waiting siblings.

Temari and Kankuro gave a polite and formal bow to the nobles.

“Welcome to Sunagakure, we’re glad you could visit us and we hope your stay here is will be comfortable.” Temari greeted.

The four nobles bowed politely back and the father of the boys gave a critical look to both the siblings. “I hope you can show my sons your village for the remainder of the day. The Kazekage spoke of his children and what capable young ninjas they are.” With a polite smile but a strong stare, he nodded once more. “I hope he is not wrong.”

Kankuro picked up the silent threat behind the words but ignored it and nodded his head.

He was already hating it.

The noble gestured to the oldest of his sons who was a little older than Temari. “My oldest son is Tor.”

A handsome young man bowed politely once more, his flowing robes and traditional long hat reflected vibrant silk blue in the sun. His face remained polite as he stared at the two siblings impassively.

“My second is Abu.”

Another boy in equally fancy robes bowed and pushed up thin glasses up his nose bridge. He was rather prim looking and his clothes seemed to be perfectly pressed and wrapped over his body. He looked about fourteen years old.

The noble then turned to his youngest who looked about ten and moved him forward. “And this is my youngest son Rue.”

The youngest gave a quick bow which was less controlled than his older siblings but he still remained poised and polite.

“I hope you will do well to look out for them as they explore your village.” The noble stated with a smile. “Now, I must leave and continue our meeting, the Kazekage is waiting.”

All three sons nodded as their father turned to leave and disappeared into the meeting hall.

There was a moment afterwards where nothing was said and Temari and Kankuro stared silently at the noble sons. Seeing as all the introductions were out of the way Temari thought it was best for them to begin. So far the three boys seemed compliant and quiet but the Sand Siblings realised that was not the case.

As soon as they left the main Kage Building, Temari found the oldest – Tor – suddenly removing his long hat and throwing it gracelessly at the blonde kunoichi. Temari caught on reflex but the condescending look Tor had suddenly subjected her too made her stop in her track.

“Carry my things,” the oldest noble ordered like he expected no protest and threw his outer over-robe at her without bothering to look up. “And don’t get them dirty.”

“Wha –! I’m not carrying your clothes!” Temari growled. “I might be your tour guide for the day but ain’t no maid, you got that?” she glared fiercely at the boy who was only a year older than her.

“I’m sorry but that’s exactly what you are if I say so.” He answered with a pompous sniff. “After all, you’re _female,_ that’s what you useful for right? Submissive help and support.”

Kankuro’s eyebrows hit his hairline in disbelief.

For a moment Temari didn’t know what to do with the sudden rage that stuck itself in her throat. Her fingers itched to carve her initials into his face with her kunai.

“Did you just call me a _submissive female_?”

The young man just raised a slender, aggravatingly long eyebrow and countered, “Do have problems hearing as well?”

Kankuro couldn’t comprehend Tor’s audacity. It was almost impressive how quickly he lost his sister’s favour. The bastard didn’t know how temperamental his sister could be, maybe he just didn’t care. But he was definitely exploiting the fact that both Temari and Kankuro couldn’t do a damn thing due to the delicate political nature of their meeting.

“Hey, carrying your own damn things. We don’t give a fucking rat’s ass about whether they get dirty or not. You’ve got arms, use them.” Kankuro defended his sister.

The second son known as Abu snorted at the puppeteers comment and snidely remarked, “Huh, such language brother…they clearly have no manner these…desert barbarians.” The boy pushed up his glasses while raising his chin up as he scanned Kankuro down like he was a vermin under his shoe. “And they’re painfully unintelligent from what I can see.”

Kankuro growled. “In a moment you won’t be able to _see_ at all. So keep talking.”

The pairs of siblings stared at each other with varying degrees of disgust and contempt for a few moments till Temari gave a deep breath. She glared viciously at the sexist bastard and pasted a painfully forced smile.

“Alright, let’s just get this damn thing over with.” Temari gritted out. The kunoichi who was still clutching onto Tor’s robes tucked them under her arm and began to turn around. “I’ll just show you to your damn sleeping quarters, we’ll start from there.”

The two noble brothers turned their nose upwards and brushed rudely pass both Kankuro and Temari and walked ahead of them like they knew where they were going. Kankuro clutched onto his kunai with a dangerous need to cut something. Temari was feeling no different. But both sand siblings gave each other despairing looks when the two noble boys kept rudely pushing people out of the way, not a single shred of common courtesy in sight.

It was going to be a long day.

It only took them a few minutes to show the two boys the building where most of the visiting politicians and noble guests stayed overnight. Of course Tor couldn’t help but comment on the lack of tasteful décor and Abu just kept mentioning how filthy everything was.

“Does everything have dust and dirt on it? I can barely find a decent place to walk let alone sleep.” The middle son – Abu – drawled out distastefully as they walked around their temporary living quarters. “Doesn’t anyone clean here?”

Temari gave then a flat look. “We live in a desert, of course there’s dirt.”

Abu sniffed looking unimpressed. “Yeah shows how smart your people are, who would want to live in the middle of dry desert anyway?”

Tor scoffed and glanced at Temari who was leaning against the wall with a disinterested look. “No, it seems this is the perfect environment for these common folk. I think they _like_ it this way.”

Kankuro rolled up his fists. ”If you hate it so much then go sleep outside.”

It was then that the youngest son – Rue – picked up a vase and smashed it on the floor. The sound of broken porcelain echoed painfully in the silence that followed.

The littlest noble kid just stared at the broken pieces with an abstract sort of fascination then looked up at the two sand siblings and gave a deceptively innocent smile. “Whoops…that wasn’t expensive was it?”

The older two brothers snickered underneath there long robes sleeves.

“What the hell did you do brat!?” Kankuro growled as he stomped over to the little kid. “You don’t go breaking other people’s things!”

“It was an accident.” The young boy answered simply.

“Accident my ass! You broke that on purpose you little inbred.” The puppeteer grabbed Rue by his robes and continued to growl.

“I suggest you let go of our brother or we might just tell our father that you’ve been physically violent.” Abu slyly commented while pushing his glasses up his nose bridge. “I can only imagine what that could do to the delicate negotiations the Kazekage has obviously been planning. Don’t want to tell daddy that you’ve been misbehaving right?”

Kankuro baulked at the audacity of Abu’s threat and practically flew of the handle. But before he could, Temari quickly held up her hand to stop him from going any further.

“Don’t bother Kankuro.” She gave the two boys an acidic look. “They won’t be here much longer anyways.”

III

Gaara had placed a lot of faith in the hope that eventually he’d find a way to get back to his timeline.

After all he couldn’t stay here. This wasn’t where he belonged and the very idea that his people were somewhere, without their leader, in the middle of a losing war, practically had Gaara wringing his hands with worry. The guilt of unintentionally abandoning his duty as Kazekage made the jinchuuriki pay acute attention to the present Sunagakure. Subconsciously, maybe he was trying to make up for his absence in the original timeline.

That was how Gaara came to sneaking about in the central building.

The russet haired genin walked into the Kage building, ignoring the surreptitious glances thrown his way and headed to where the meeting was taking place.

Gaara decided he would investigate.

The room his father and the noble of the South were currently being occupied in wasn’t guarded, but there were seals in place that restricted anyone from entering. That didn’t matter, Gaara knew the office well.

The genin extended some of his sand into the old closed-off vents that were no longer in use and used his chakra to extend his hearing like he did in the Chūnin exams with his eyes.

It took a moment of steady breathing for Gaara to not react to the low and commanding voice which he recognised belonged to his late father.

He had forgotten what the man’s voice sounded like but couldn’t quite place whether he missed his father or not.

Gaara’s relationship with the Fourth Kazekage was complex at best. From wanting his father’s love and attention when he was younger, to wanting his blood when he grew older, Gaara never liked to dwell on the man very much. The Fourth was never much of parent to Gaara, but the jinchuuriki acknowledged that his father had been placed in a difficult position in regards to his duty to his village and his duty to his family. It was not always easy to pick one over the other.

Kage’s did not have that luxury. Gaara only understood that when he became one.

As Gaara grew older and realised that the world didn’t always consist of straight answers, he had come to accept that his father did love him…it was abstract and incredibly distant but he did. And so did his mother. It was a shame that Gaara only found out after his father died.

It was strange to know, that the man that caused the most powerful rifts and impact on his life was sitting just on the other side of the wall.

Shaking his thoughts away, the young genin listened into their conversation.

Turns out it was a simple contracted arrangement for the city in south to split their loyalties to both Sunagakure and Konohagakure in equal shares.

Ninjas would be hired-out for their services and in return, the village gets a steady flow of money from the commissioners. This was the how all hidden villages functioned.

Gaara was aware that Suna’s financial and economic status was plummeting, especially when clients began to turn towards Konoha for ninja support after the third shinobi war. It didn’t do Suna’s relationship with the Village of the Leaf any favours, which was only held onto by a weak treaty.

Gaara stopped eavesdropping and turn away with a sigh.

It was because of the delicate nature of Suna’s military and economic status that had reduced his father into teaming up with Oto in the first place. Resentment had grown towards Konoha, festering like a rotting wound lathered in salt when they kept losing client after client.

So many reasons, so many catalysts that made the future that Gaara knew come to existence.

The idea of mucking around with the flow of things greatly frightened Gaara as he realised being in the past was something akin to dancing on a floor of glass, dangling sixty metres in the air. Something was bound to break.

“Gaara, what are you doing here?”

The jinchuuriki quickly glanced over to the side and saw Baki-sensei standing with a stack of folders in his hands. The older man gave an inquisitive stare as Gaara stood oddly near the door of the meeting room. The jounin spied a slither of sand hover lightly around Gaara’s toes but it quickly disappeared.

“Was there something you wanted?” the question came out a little awkward. “It’s probably not best for you to be here at the mo – “

The door to the meeting room opened and the Kazekage and the noble from the South strolled calmly out only to find Gaara and Baki in their way.

“Baki-san you retrieved the documents that I needed?” asked the Kazekage in a low, even voice.

Baki quickly bowed towards both of them and answered. “Yes sir, I’ll be leaving them on your table.” He glanced over to the jinchuuriki who was standing with his eyes trained solely on his father.

The Kazekage moved his eyes towards his youngest son. The child was still staring at him with unnerving intensity. “Gaara.”

The boy shifted his glance towards the man next to his father and nodded absently to both of them and none of them at the same time.

“Ah, so this must be your other son Kazekage-sama.” The noble patriarch gave a quick look over and gave a polite bow to the boy. “He is almost the same age as my youngest son, Rue.”

The Kazekage looked calm but Baki could see that he was beginning to feel uncomfortable by the close proximity the noble was breaching towards Gaara. “Yes, I believe Gaara is a year older than yours.”

“So young and already and ninja in his own right, you must be proud of all your children.” The noble added with a polite tone.

Baki noted that the air around had turned stifling and uncomfortable but for once it wasn’t because of Gaara.

The Kazekage took some of the folders from Baki’s arm and nodded with a simple, “Yes.”

The noble watched the red-haired boy with a little bit of curiosity. It didn’t escape his notice that the child wasn’t with his siblings this morning and that he was probably the jinchuuriki he had been informed about before he arrived to Suna.

The Noble didn’t exactly understand these hidden villages but he knew enough that the boy was considered a weapon. Looking at the small child now, the noble found himself staring at pale dew coloured eyes that bore into his own without the slightest hint of interest in return.

How curious that this ‘weapon’ he had heard of was so small and a lot more subdue than he had expected from the brief description he was given about the boy. He was half expecting horns and fangs from the way his guards talked about him with such fear.

Without a note of warning, sand flew up and shot towards the noble’s head.

Instantly both the Kazekage and Baki had their hands drew out their weapons while sorting out their minds from the sudden change of events.

Baki didn’t know what he was particularly expecting but his guess about Gaara’s next move tilted towards homicide more often than not. But it only took a moment to realise that nothing had happened. The noble was still standing unharmed next to the Kazekage.

A clump of hovering sand was fisted into a small ball next to the noble’s ear. Gaara slowly retracted the sand away from the noble’s head then slowly opened it, revealing a small insect cocooned in the middle.

Baki blinked at the creature. It was a wasp.

The noble who was a little alarmed by the abrupt movement of the sand slowly relaxed then turned to Gaara with unexplained gratitude.

“Arigato.” His words were genuinely thankful. “I’m highly allergic to wasp and bee stings, it’s a good thing the boy caught it.” 

Gaara paid no attention to the man and quickly released the creature through an open portal in the hallway. Without acknowledging any of them the genin slowly walked pass Baki, the noble and his father and left them watching his back as he walked away.

The Kazekage’s eyes lingered a second longer on his son’s retreating figure and turned back into his office.

III

For the last couple of hours, Temari and Kankuro had to endure the three noble brothers and their planet sized egos.

Tor was handsome, but that about as far as anything appealing about him went.

He had a superiority complex so extreme it bordered on the ludicrous. His disregard anything that didn’t affect him directly, asides from his brothers and seemed to have a particularly strong dislike towards Temari and her less-than-docile, no-nonsense personality. Tor also took it as a personal offence that Temari didn’t react positively to his attractiveness – in his opinion. She barely noticed his appearance and found nothing remotely appealing about him face.

If anything, she remarked that Tor was a ‘particularly hideous breed of mutt that she wouldn’t sell to the devil to wipe his ass on’.

The hate between them was deliciously mutual.

Abu was a little nerdy ‘know-it-all’ according to Kankuro. He had a compulsive need to find faults and flaws in everything under the sun. He was impossible to please and was crazy about hygiene and a lot of his comments were directed towards Kankuro more often than not. He made no attempt to hide his disdain for their lack of wealth as well.

Kankuro marvel at his level of pain tolerance – because being around both Tor and Abu was definitely a form of psychological torture.

Perhaps the most horrible thing about the day was that their last source of horror. The youngest noble son.

Rue was a nightmare.

He was the epitome of how horrible a child could be – uncontrollable, cheeky, two-faced and sadistically craved attention in the worst ways possible. Rue was chaos wrapped in silk robes on crack.

Temari had to apologize to several angry villagers for their missing vegetables, their misplaced vases and broken merchandises. Some of the owners of the food stalls found their batches of pastries and dried fruit covered in dirt and sometimes even worms. Kankuro and Temari didn’t even know how Rue was doing half the pranks, but it became a second job to keep an eye out for suspicious behaviour.

Of course the siblings didn’t expect Tor and Abu to stop their youngest brother, in fact they indirectly supported his delinquency by laughing at his behaviour and snickering at Temari and Kankuro’s ever increasing irritation.

By the time it was afternoon, Kankuro had developed a nervous tick on his forehead and Temari was reciting the ninja academy rule book backwards in order to stay calm.

They were by no means pushovers, but there wasn’t much they could do except handle damage control. And as much Kankuro wanted to stab them with his kunai, he knew that would be a political ‘no-no’. But they were reaching their limit.

“I’m hungry, go get food.” Tor ordered as he picked the dirt out of his fingernails.

Neither Temari nor Kankuro moved.

They both gave him a look dripping with so much disdain, that it could rival Gaara’s bitchface. They dared him to ask again.

Unfortunately he did.

“Hurry and do as you’re told, you’re here to aid us, so do your jobs _ninja._ ”

The last word was dripping with derision and mockery.

Kankuro suddenly went still.

Temari eyed her brother wearily.

He then went over to a stall of bread rolls, picked up two and inspected them with absurd concentration.

The puppeteer squeezed it, feeling its girth and hardness and after a moment he nodded, satisfied with what he found.

Then with violent force, he promptly pelted both rolls at Tor’s head.

Tor found his left eye being suddenly pushed back into his sockets by hard bit of bread and then stumbled when the other hit his nose.

The face-painted genin scowled. “There’s your food your _highness_! The next one’s going up your –”

“Kankuro!” Temari hissed despite the fact that she wasn’t overly upset by his behaviour.

“If you’re hungry go eat the bread off the ground.” Kankuro crossed his arms and scowled. “I’ve seen missing-nin more ‘noble’ than you three. You guys are a joke.”

Tor stood up from his previous hunch and brushed away the bread crumbs from his cheek. He stared coldly at the two genin before him, his face going red and his words coming out in an indignant squeak.

“You really want to spoil your father’s plans that badly?” he gave a low laugh. “Keep at what you’re doing and we’ll see how far your precious Suna will get with this treaty. I’ll make sure you and your precious village won’t get a single commissioner from our city, I can only imagine how disappointed your father will be.”

Kankuro was still seething but a small trickle of worry began to invade his wall of anger.

The Kazekage had stressed the importance of always maintaining a civil and polite façade in front official guest, no matter how irritating or condescending they could be. He had been trained for this, but his temper always tore away his reason.

With clenched fists Kankuro snarled at Tor and gritted out, “You wouldn’t jeopardise your own father’s plans.”

Tor snorted. “My father has less to lose than yours. The Kazekage needs this more than we do, we hold all the cards, and you don’t.”

Temari watched with tension and knew what the boy said was half true. Being the oldest, Temari had become aware that Suna wasn’t as prosperous as it used to be and she knew her father had been trying to establish Sunagakure back on the map.

She wished for the day to end, the way she wished for rain.

Temari placed a firm hand on her brother’s shoulder and gripped it tight.

“Enough of this.” The kunoichi looked over at the other two boys and put on a neutral façade. “If you’re hungry, you’ll be served with proper care back in your living quarters. The servants of our house are more than adequate to meet your every need.” She glanced over to her brother who was still gritting his teeth. “This tour is over.”

Tor and Abu turned up their noses at the same time but seemed pleased with the outcome of the argument.

Temari knew that they couldn’t risk ruining their father plans and they couldn’t take the noble brother’s bait, they were ninja, they were better than that.

But it seemed her plans to endure this for the sake of their father came crashing down when Abu pushed up his glasses and said, “Where’s Rue?”

All four of them glanced around them and found that the youngest noble son was indeed missing.

For the first time, Kankuro and Temari witnessed Tor and Abu actually shift from arrogant to genuine concern. Abu glanced at the stalls and shelters to see if Rue was hiding and Tor called out his brother’s name repeatedly.

The sand sibling also helped but only because a missing Rue meant they had no idea what kind of trouble the little devil-spawn might cause.

One minute later, their search came to an abrupt end when they heard him scream.

All four of them ran towards the corner street and found that they didn’t need to search for Rue anymore.

The small boy was lying on the dirt floor completely still and motionless. A small trickle of blood ran slowly down his brow, speckling his robes with crimson stains that looked garish on white silk.

But Kankuro and Temari practically ignored the prone boy and blanched as they noticed a thin cloud of sand hovering over his body, like a blanket of gold, each grain grazing lighting against his skin.

Rue was laying at the feet of none other than Suna’s Jinchuuriki, Sabaku no Gaara.

.

.

.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The names of the noble brothers: Tor – Abu – Rue is derived from ‘toraburu’ which is how some Japanese people pronounce the English word 'trouble’.
> 
> Yours faithfully,
> 
> CADEL


	8. Chapter 8

 

The sand receded back into Gaara’s gourd and Temari quickly crouched down to do a basic check-up.

The youngest noble was unconscious with a dark bruise blooming on his forehead. The cut on his brow looked superficial despite the amount of blood dripping down the side of his face.

Tor and Abu were now crouching over their little brother, their expressions a surprising mixture of alarm and concern. In their haste, their robes became unkempt for the first time and surprisingly seemed to care very little for it.

Kankuro observed that maybe their only redeeming feature was their care for each other.

“What’s wrong with him?!” Abu ordered but despite the demand, his voice was laced with concern.

Temari felt a swelling on the boy’s scalp.

“He’s got a minor concussion from the looks of it but I don’t think it’s too serious. Except for some bruising and the cut on his brow, I don’t see any other injuries.”  Temari answered patiently.

Tor stood up and gave Gaara an accusatory glare. “What did you do?”

Gaara continued staring down at Rue. Eventually he looked up and met Tor’s eyes.

“He fell.”

“You did something.” Tor spat as he took a step closer.

“He fell.” Gaara repeated patiently.

“I saw the way those two looked at you when we found Rue.” Tor pointed towards his siblings. “You attacked him. What were you planning to do after you knocked my brother out?”

Kankuro and Temari glanced at each other and then glanced at Tor.

“Hey, it’s not a good idea to throw around-” Kankuro began to warn the boy but was abruptly cut off.

“ _Shut it!_ ” The oldest barked. “My father will be informed about this.” Tor threatened with promise.

The jinchuuriki stared impassively at the boy’s threat and repeated, “I didn’t do it. The child fell.”

“Liar!” he hissed, “ _Desert mongrels.”_

Gaara held Tor’s gaze for a long moment, pinning him with a most unnerving look. It might have even been vaguely disapproving. After a few beats, Tor began to find those dew green eyes akin to looking at a marionette. Unflinching and glassy. Not being able to stare him down, the eldest noble averted his eyes with a sniff.

Kankuro lifted Rue up and cradled the boy in his arms.

“I’m going to send him to the hospital.” He gave a stern look towards Tor and Abu. “You two can follow.”

Tor walked up to Kankuro and began to grab his brother from the genin’s arms. “I’ll carry him.”

Kankuro all but growled. “ _I’ll_ carry him. You just stand behind and look pretty. I’m here to help so shut up and walk.”

The puppeteer didn’t bother to wait for a response and leaped towards the infirmary. The genin cursed under his breathe. If Tor, Abu or Rue ever inherited their father’s land, Kankuro promised he would avoid their entire village like the plague.

The middle son, Abu had been watching the new red-haired boy with calculating eyes.

It wasn’t his appearance and nor was it his soft-spoken voice, but something was _there,_ something that tugged on his natural instincts to turn the other way and run. All in all, it was rather mixed but he knew he didn’t like this genin on an instinctual level.

Abu flinched back when Gaara’s diverted his attention towards him and quickly scampered off to follow his Tor.

Temari and Gaara were now the only two left standing. The blonde kunoichi glanced over to her brother. She had no doubt that the whole event could ruin their father’s plans, but she would have to report this to Baki-sensei at least. The problem was Temari wasn’t sure what she was supposed to tell him. Did Gaara hurt the boy or not?

A little surprised at her reluctance to jump the gun on Gaara, she realised that she had taken Gaara’s statement seriously. _He fell_. The kunoichi glanced upwards and observed her surroundings.

They were standing near the corner of the street and several sails were pitched up at different levels to provide shelter for street-side markets. The dome-like buildings were naturally curved but they had grooves, window sills and balconies that would make climbing relatively easy. Rue could have fallen from any height if he managed to climb up. What he was doing at that height, Temari didn’t want to know.

“Do you believe me?” asked the quiet voice beside her.

Temari glanced over to Gaara whose question was spoken with a colour of curiosity.

 _He fell._ Did she really believe his words? She never really needed to question his motives before because his drive was always clear. To kill. But Temari noted that as homicidal as Gaara was, he never had the need to lie. Her brother would admit to murder just as easily as admitting the sky was blue. He had no reason to lie.

“Doesn’t matter.” She answered reluctantly but her words were the truth. “Let’s just hope there isn’t too much damage from this.”

With that, Temari ran back to the Kage building to give in an official report before the brats twisted the story. Hopefully the Kazekage wouldn’t be too mad that his youngest child almost killed his guest.

III

It was late evening by the time that Temari and Kankuro had been informed about Rue’s condition.

“He woke up about two hours ago and seems to be active and well.” Baki explained.

“The brat lives?” Kankuro asked while picking his ears. “What a shame. So I guess everything’s cool now.”

Despite the good news, both siblings felt the sting of responsibility fall on their shoulders. Rue had been under their care when he got hurt.

Temari sighed, “What did they tell their father?”

Their sensei crossed his arms. “Well, they think the Kazekage’s son assaulted their brother. Basically they made it as horrible as you can spin it – that Gaara is as homicidal as they come and deliberately attacked Rue with premeditation.”

Silence stretched and then Kankuro rubbed his forehead.

“I’d laugh…if it wasn’t so ridiculously possible.”

“How did their father take it?” Temari paused, “Wait…how did _our_ father take it?”

“I’ve been informed that their father had put all negotiations with Suna on hold. Last I saw the Kazekage, he seemed…irritated.”

Both siblings deflated.

Kankuro growled. “Stinkin’ brats, it wouldn’t nearly be as horrible if they didn’t have to be so melodramatic.”

The blonde kunoichi thought for a moment then added. “Well, the little maggots weren’t entirely wrong but…I think I’m more inclined to believe that Rue just fell.”

Kankuro scratched his head. “If Rue fell, what the hell was Gaara doing there then?”

Temari shrugged. “Wrong place, wrong time? I dunno, you’ll have to ask him but I’m just saying…for once I’d rather team up with our insane baby bro than the Terrible Trio.”

Baki ran his hand over his covered scalp and added, “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, despite the brother’s fanciful account of the event, they still weren’t there, their words don’t hold much validity…except maybe to their father.” He sighed. “There’s not much we can do to change things at the moment.”

Kankuro crossed his arms in irritation. “Well if that’s the case, why are we still talking about this? I’m going home.” With that, the puppeteer left.

“I expect you guys to meet up at the training ground tomorrow morning at nine.” After a pause Baki added, “Get Gaara to come if you can.”

Temari nodded and followed her brother.

III

The next morning when Kankuro and Temari arrived at their usual training ground, they found their space was already occupied.

Tor and Abu stood in the middle of the rocky field, waiting for them. 

Their formal silk were exchanged for lighter robes practical in design and made for functionality. Neither one had their long hats nor any other unnecessary accessories except for thin belts attached to the waist with pockets. The brothers looked both contemptuous and smug as they watched the two sand siblings stop to a halt.

Kankuro frowned. “You’re not supposed to be here, this place is for shinobi only.” He pointed rudely to the exit. “Get lost.”

“Honestly, you desert barbarians never cease to amaze me with your hospitality.” Abu smiled tightly. “We were just looking around.” The boy glanced disdainfully at the open, stone arena and sneered. “It’s not much but it’ll do for now.”

Temari crossed her arms. “Leave, we have training.”

The blonde kunoichi began to walk away but she suddenly felt something fly past her head. There was with a loud ‘thwack’ past her ear.

Temari froze and stared at the small straight blade knife buried firmly in the rock behind her.

A few strands of her blonde hair dangled lightly in the wind.

Tor had his his arm extended outwards with a series of straight-blade throwing knives protruding dangerously between his knuckles.

His mouth was set in a gleeful smirk. Daring. Cocky.

“You don’t mind if we join you for today?” Tor’s grin widened. “After all, we’re still your guests. It’ll be rude to ignore us…especially after what happened yesterday.”

Kankuro couldn’t contain his disbelieving snort.

“You want to _train_ with us? Are you crazy?” he barked out a laugh. “Do you even know how to use that thing? I wouldn’t want you stabbing yourself while trying to find the pointy end your _highness_.”

Despite his words, Kankuro discreetly eyed the knife that had almost cut off his sister’s ear and inwardly frowned. That was not a throw on a novice.

The two nobles didn’t seem fazed by genin’s word.

“Well if you’re so good, you won’t mind it then?” asked Tor.

Temari gave them a firm look. “Why are you really here?”

“We want to fight you.” Tor replied with a lift of his chin.

Both Kankuro and Temari stared at each other and let his proposal sink in, then not a moment later they began to laugh.

Kankuro huffed and looked back up to the two boys. “Wow. I didn’t know you clowns had a sense of humour.” He snorted again. “Look, get lost. We really don’t have time for you two today.” The puppeteer pulled out a kunai and began to spin it around his finger. “Besides, I’ll get into a lot of trouble for killing the guests, can’t have that happening now do we.”

The nobles frowned at the lack of seriousness the sand siblings were showing towards their proposal.

“You take this lightly without knowing the implications of our proposal.” Abu snapped. “We’re not requesting some light brawl.”

Tor suddenly withdrew a small white cloth from within his robes. With a bit of confusion, Temari and Kankuro noticed that Sunagakure’s symbol was embroidered on the silk. With a quick flick, Tor drew out one of his blades and cut the symbol in half. Then with little care, he threw it onto the floor.

Both sand siblings froze as the silk landed in the dirt.

The action of cutting another’s emblem symbolized only one thing between those who were in the right status to call for it.

A duel.

Tor sneered gleefully. “I apologize, we were not being clear enough. We formally request to engage in a duel on behalf of our respective villages. We will fight in the name our village, its honour and strength. Whoever loses the match will openly admit defeat, carrying the combined dishonour and reputation of their village on their backs.”

Kankuro snarled with reluctant excitement. “Fine we accept your challenge!”

“Kankuro shut up!” Temari hissed.

“What? They obviously want this, so why not just fight? We can beat them blindfolded.” The puppeteer gave a disdainful look towards the nobles.

Temari eyed their village’s emblem dirtied on the ground and clenched her fists.

“Are you two stupid? Do you have any idea how serious this can get?” Her glare sharpened. “An official duel is not something you call upon lightly, especially against a hidden village.”

Temari couldn’t care less if Tor and Abu got hurt playing ninja. The duel was a bad idea for all of them.

Both sides would become proxies for their Lord, Daimyo, Kage or Master. A great deal of dishonour and damage for the losing pair would follow. Even if Kankuro and Temari won the duel, it would still mean that the Nobles from the South could deal a social and political embarrassment. The repercussion would not be as serious as it was hundreds of years ago, but the risks were not worth it. Also the fourth Kazekage would not appreciate it if they embarrassed the honour out of their official guests.

Temari could only marvel at the idiocy the two boys were displaying.

She crossed her arms and shook her head. “No, we refuse.”

“Wha-” Kankuro began to protest.

“No,” she cut him off. “As much as I’d love to cut up your face Tor, we refuse. Go back to your quarters and look after your brother or something, but this duel will not happen.”

Just as she finished speaking, another knife flew towards Temari but it was deflected with her war fan.

Not a beat later, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder.

The first blade Tor had buried into the rock behind her had been pulled back by and thin cord of steel attached to its handle. Recoiling throwing knives.

She could feel blood running down her arm from the puncture but she ignored it as she instinctively threw a kunai in Tor’s direction.

To her surprise, he deflected the incoming weapon but quickly threw two more. He could throw and deflect rather well. But he still was not good enough since he gained a sharp cut across his face.

Temari bleeding from her shoulder and Tor bleeding from his cheek – they both seethed at each other from across the field.

Kankuro growled as he moved towards his sister. He was more than ready for a fight.

Abu stepped forward to meet him.

The bespectacled noble reached into his pocket and without warning, catapulted a small object directly at Kankuro’s head. But the puppeteer easily stepped out of its way. The genin frowned when he saw that the younger noble was still grinning. It was then that Kankuro realised the object Abu had thrown was not a projectile weapon at all.

It was a bomb.

Seconds later, Kankuro narrowly avoided a face full of fire as he duck low and rolled away.

The genin stood back up and glowered at his opponent who was already pulling out more small orbs of metal and readying them in his hands.

The Sand Siblings stood side by side as they glared at the two nobles, both of them grossly annoyed at themselves for being hurt by the fight, a fight against a bunch of idiot, bullying civilians. It should have been easy but Temari and Kankuro realised that they didn’t know the noble boys had been marginally trained.

They had underestimated them, an embarrassing rookie mistake.

“Are you really ninja?” Abu snickered. “If so, then your hidden village has no hope.”

The next moment Tor shot his blades towards Temari in quick waves, and each time Temari deflected them with her fan, he just retracted them back towards himself. Temari remained on the defensive as she continued to block the boy’s flying blades, but realised that he was pushing her back every time she tried to get closer.

Kankuro didn’t even have time to draw out more weapons, since he was constantly avoiding the rain of grenades Abu was showering on him. The brat seemed to have an endless supply in his pockets.

The puppeteer decided enough was enough.

Kankuro suddenly bolted in confusing zigzags towards Abu and dodged the bombs as he weaved his way across the training ground. When he was only a few metres away, the genin expertly aimed his shuriken at the Abu’s pockets, hoping to cut them off the noble’s waist.

It should have worked, it _would_ have worked…if it weren’t for the smoke bomb that suddenly exploded in his face.

The bitter fumes of the smoke engulfed the training ground and for a few moments nothing could be seen. It eventually cleared and revealed Tor and Abu once again smirking at them from the other side of the dirt field.

“What’s going on here?”

All eyes turned towards the jounin standing at the edge of the field.

III

Baki analysed the scene and sighed. He was late only five minutes.

As soon as Temari and Kankuro saw their sensei, the noble brothers took the opportunity send another attack of flying knives and bombs. Of course the genins promptly forgot their sensei’s presence and retaliated.

Baki suddenly felt far too old.

With another sigh he decided to end the fight before all four of them gave their father’s a reason to go off the handle. He took a step forwards but not a moment later a hand shot out, effectively halting him on the spot.

Baki turned to find Gaara next to him, unaware as to when he arrived.

“Watch.” The jinchuuriki commanded softly.

Baki glanced at the boy again, his interest a little piqued. “You would let them risk a political fallout?”

The jinchuuriki shook his head. “Let them fight, they need to get it out of their system.”

Baki gave him another hard gaze. With one last look, the teacher nodded. He turned his attention back to the fight and found that the noble boys were putting up a decent fight. He turned to look back at Gaara and something occurred to him.

“You knew those boys could fight.” Baki stated turning back to the field.

“Yes.”

Baki nodded. “Well…for people of nobility, they did have a surprisingly small guard number and next to no private security for the boys.”

Gaara answered simply. “Their father didn’t place handlers because they didn’t need them.”

It was noted that Kankuro and Temari weren’t using any ninjutsu despite how much the two brothers were egging them on.

It was in the code. Shinobi must never use their ninja art on civilians unless they have a criminal status.

It was a difficult thing to follow by the way the noble brothers had been antagonising Temari and Kankuro. Baki approved of his students’ sense of self restraint.

“Do you think the brothers will win?” Baki asked, suddenly curious to know Gaara’s opinion.

The boy didn’t answer for a moment but slowly shook his head. “No, even without chakra, my brother and sister are far more advance in combat then those two.”

Baki blinked.

 _My brother and sister_.

He was sure that was the first time he heard Gaara address his siblings in a familial and personal manner. Mildly surprised by the small detail, Baki almost missed the next smoke bomb go off.

III

Temari had effectively cut the steel strings from several of Tor’s flying knives.

Kankuro threw his shurikens directly into Abu’s grenades mid-flight, effectively detonating them before they got the chance to get near him.

Tor and Abu were now visibly panting while Temari and Kankuro seemed only slightly sweaty – their stamina and strength outstripping their opponents.

A voice suddenly cried out from the side.

“Hey! Come on, beat them!” It was Rue. He was standing a little further away from Gaara and Baki with his head wrapped in bandages. “What are you waiting for? Cut them down!” Rue rallied.

“Oi, shut up you little termite!” Kankuro growled. He pulled another kunai and grinned. “Well, it seems you two aren’t as useless as we first thought but why don’t we start making this real eh?”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Tor smirked.

Kankuro suddenly bolted towards Abu and threw several shurikens in rapid waves, each one aiming for different pockets hanging from Abu’s waist. A few hit their target and slashed gaping holes in his supply pockets, causing the noble to lose a large majority of his bombs.

The puppeteer didn’t stop there.

He threw a kunai towards Abu’s feet were his bombs had fell from his pockets, and activated his own explosive tag. The explosion caused a chain reaction. A moment later, all the bombs on the ground detonated, one after another.

Abu scrambled back when he realised he was standing on a carpet of exploding bombs.

For a moment Kankuro worried if he overestimated Abu’s speed.

But his moment of worry soon passed as Tor quickly grabbed his brother by the collar and jumped out of the range of the explosion.

As soon as they were a safe distance away from Abu’s sabotaged load of grenades, Tor began to twirl his blades from their steel cords in a fast circular motion over his head. After a few rotations, he threw the steel towards Temari and began to assault her with his make-shift whip.

Temari successfully avoided any contact with the blades and dodged him cleanly.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Temari finally huffed with an annoyed sigh.

Disregarding the code, the kunoichi open her war fan to the first third. One purple moon faced her opponents as she pulled her arms back and gave one big sweep.

A sudden wall of wind slammed into both Tor and Abu, pushing them off their feet. She watched as they flew back and then crashed back down in a graceless heap.

Temari closed her fan and scowled down at the boys.

“We fought like you wanted and we won.” She reeled in the urge to spit. “Just get out of here and stop wasting our time.”

Abu fussed over the cut on his brow but Tor glared at Temari like he meant to set her on fire. He was livid. His sense of pride was larger than anyone had known and his misogynistic tendencies drove his disgust towards Temari further.

Tor’s next actions prove to be more recklessness then anyone thought him capable of.

“Abu, detonate them!” He suddenly snapped towards his brother.

The younger brother stopped fussing over his cut and turned with wide eyes towards Tor. “What?”

The older boy glared viciously at Abu and stormed towards him. “I. Said. Detonate. Them.”

Abu blinked at his brother then suddenly shook head, his eye’s laced with reluctance and even a little bit of fear. It was the first time the genins had seen the two brothers disagree.

“Tor…look, it’s over. I don’t think that’s necessary –”

Tor suddenly cut his brother off and grabbed a small device from Abu’s robes and clicked the remote.

For a moment nothing happened, and then the ground suddenly exploded.

Massive debris and stone shot towards the sky and began to rain violently back to earth. Everyone took cover and waited for it to die down.

Afterwards when they looked up, the training ground was littered with holes with little metal spheres inside them.

The noble brothers had rigged the entire ground into a mine field.

Tor flipped another switch and the spheres released a small surge of energy _inwards,_ shredding the ground around it and then explosively deploying the sharpened debris in all direction.

And they were all headed towards Temari and Kankuro.

They were both too close to avoid the blast, so Temari quickly snapped open her fan and covered her and Kankuro just as the explosion began to pelt them. The force felt like a wall and some of the sharpened stone had ripped through her fan cutting them both.

They had no time to rest as the next wave detonated.

Kankuro cursed and Temari suddenly tugged her brother to start running while trying to cover them both. Both siblings could already see lethal projectiles heading there way. Their eyes widened for impact.

But nothing ever came.

No impact, no cuts, not the smell of each other expiring underneath the fan.

Kankuro dared to snap one eye open but suddenly felt an entirely different fear.

III

Sand.

A curtain of sand hung above their heads like a dark rain cloud and Gaara stood at the helm, his back towards them.

It took Kankuro much longer than normal to fully understand what had happened…or what _didn’t_ happen. But when he realised that Gaara was now the only thing standing in between them and begin pelted by debris…well it still didn’t make sense.

Temari gazed up at her youngest brother and did her best not to hiss. For now, as long as she wasn’t dead, she could cope with Gaara looming over them. But her mind repelled against the sand, instincts driving her to see it as a second enemy on the field.

The torrent of exploding earth finally came to a stop, its sound against heavy sand dimming to nothing and suddenly the field became quiet.

Baki stood by the side lines, attentively watching as the fight unfolded.

Slowly the shield of sand that had protected the Sand Sibling began to drip back to the jinchuuriki’s feet. No one moved as Gaara’s entire body was finally revealed from behind the gold veil.

His face gave nothing away, but the tenseness lining his back and limbs match his alert gaze. There was no anger and there was no killer intent or bloodlust. Just the condemning stare of an eleven year old genin.

Tor disregarded Gaara’s appearance on the field and he chased away the traces of embarrassment painted on his face. Abu had fallen to the ground at some point, his glasses broken and his robes dirtied. Rue, which had been on the sidelines, was now neatly tucked away in Baki’s arms, when he shielded the boy from the explosion.  

Gaara eyed the craters that decorated their training ground and spoke.

“That was an unwise move.”

Tor stiffened as the sand around Gaara’s feet started to move towards him. He backed away but the grains continued to climb up his legs like marching ants.

“Wha-what are you doing!?” Tor stumbled back.

Gaara took a step forward.

“I believe the South is known for their mining. Coal and granite. The soil there is softer than the stone ground of Sunagakure.” The jinchuuriki directed his sand to a left-over mine in front of him and commanded his sand to sink into the ground to detonate it. A moment later a loud bang was heard but nothing could be seen.

“Are you aware that planting bombs is a criminal offence, _noble-san_?”

Abu choked down the ash in mouth as he watched the jinchuuriki eye his older brother.

Tor pasted on a brave face of contempt and nonchalance. But his hands shook as he eyed the sand crawling against his thighs.

“W-we initiated an official duel, all our actions are pardoned due to the nature of our fight.”

Kankuro and Temari watched wide-eye at Gaara’s advances and both slowly backed away from ensuing slaughter.

But their sensei only narrowed his eyes as Suna’s jinchuuriki stalked the two nobles.

Gaara’s posture and gait was soft, casual and it didn’t have that rigid tenseness that usually seized the muscle when his mind was clouded with violent excitement. But it was the boy’s gaze that was most telling – where there should have been broken glass and fire…now swirled a sober shade of dew green.

Baki knew his student. Something was different about Gaara’s prowl.

Gaara blinked once and added, “Your duel is not valid.”

Temari and Kankuro’s head snapped up at the words. Wasn’t valid?

It was Baki who answered.

“The duel wasn’t carried out in the presence of a superior officer or proctor and it wasn’t approved by your Daimyo, Kage or Lord. Merely saying it’s a political duel doesn’t make it so.”

“ _Duels_ do not apply to Hidden Villages.” Gaara added.

Tor stared incredulously at the smallest genin and quickly sneered.

“It doesn’t matter. Those two,” he nodded to Kankuro and Temari, “Fought back. They are still honour bound to their village so they’re responsible for their actions.”

“ _Honour_?” the jinchuuriki shook his head. “We are Ninja, not Samurai. We have no honour.”

His words were ice chips sinking like dead weights in their bones.

Gaara took another step forward as he detonated another bomb safely within his sand.

Without knowing anything about Gaara’s status or history, the two noble boys could feel that there was something _off-kilter_ about their current opponent.

Despite the fact that he wasn’t much older than Rue, he held none of their brother’s behaviour. He was not a child. They could feel it in the air and they could see it in the way the boy stalked them. He was a predator hiding beneath a youthful façade.

“S-stay away!”

Tor stepped back, nearly tripping over Abu. But Gaara noted that he was stumbling onto the mines still buried in the field. So he commanded his sand to direct their path away from the bombs but it mostly looked like Gaara was intending to finish them off.

But before Baki and his student could prevent Gaara’s supposed massacre, Rue began running.

“Wait, hang on you guys!” Rue ran forward into the grounds without caution and headed straight towards his brothers.

Temari suddenly saw everything going wrong. “Wait you idiot!” she cried out, “Go back!”

Abu suddenly turned around at the sound of Temari’s warning and felt his mouth go dry. Rue was running straight towards one of his mines.

“There’s a bomb! Rue run back!” Abu cried out desperately, already trying to get to his youngest brother. But it was too late.

There was only muted horror as everyone watched Rue disappear behind a blinding cloud of dust, sand and smoke. The ground shook and the rocky towers collapsed around the boy, encasing him in a tomb of rubble and dirt.

Kankuro – for a brief moment – felt a small rush of movement brush past him before being blinded by suffocating dust and smoke. They covered their noses and mouths as the dust and dirt settled. When it cleared, Baki was already searching for the child.

Tor and Abu rushed over in a panic but saw nothing except daunting mound of stone, piled five metres high.

Cold realisation clenched around their stomachs as they came to one conclusion. Rue was buried alive.

“Rue!” Abu cried out. “Rue, can you hear me?!”

Tor stood off to the side with his hands shaking and something like disbelief twisting his face.

Without saying a word, Tor stepped back from the rubble and stumbled to the ground. He continued to crawl backward, as if trying to separate himself from the reality he saw before him.

Kankuro and Temari couldn’t understand how their morning had turned into such a political nightmare. All they knew was that when their father’s found out, there would be no way to salvage the situation.

Rue was as good as dead. And so were they.

Baki’s narrowed his eyes again and realised he was the only one that seemed to have noticed one crucial detail.

Gaara was missing.

III

It was a veritable tomb.

It took Rue a minute before the ringing in his ears subsided to a dull humming and he could feel the skin on his elbows and knees were gone.

Then he waited for his eyes to catch up, but unlike his ears, they didn’t recover.

Not matter how many times he blinked, all he saw was a void. Rue couldn’t even see his hand, there was absolutely no light and it was only gravity that told him which way was up and down. In a panic, he grappled around to get a corporal feel of his surrounding till his fingers brushed against the wall. But the only thing he could feel was tiny little things _moving_ underneath his palm.

Rue shrieked and fell back. It was like tiny little insects were crawling inside the small cavity he was occupying. Was the wall alive?

Suddenly, the idea of being in the dark with creepy-crawlies became too overwhelming. The child’s chest tightened and breathing became taxing. Rue began to shout and scream.

“Let me out! Let me out!” he cried desperately. “Help me! Tor, Abu! Help me!”

Though he could not see, Rue could feel hot tears dribbling down his chin as he continued to scream, and with every shout, his fear escalated.

“They cannot hear you little one.”

Rue suddenly jerked back as the unknown voice penetrated his cries.

“W-who’s there?”

“Sabaku no Gaara.” The voice answered.

The child didn’t recognise the name but found the voice to be familiar. It belonged to the scary red hair boy that had magic sand.

“Let me out, _let me out!”_ he continued hysterically.

“Save your breath, there’s not enough air in here for you to be shouting.” Gaara explained quietly, his voice echoing against the darkness.

“Let me out! I don’t want to die!” He choked on tears and snot as he clawed at his surroundings. “I can’t breathe _, I can’t breathe_!”

There was a moment of silence then Gaara’s low voice asked, “You’re afraid of death?”

Rue kicked blindly into the darkness, his child mind hoping he could kick and punch his way out of there. “I-I can’t breathe! I don’t want to die!”

“Everyone dies eventually.” Gaara stated bluntly without sparing the boy. “Why not now? Dying here won’t make a difference.”

Rue sobbed pathetically as he puffed for air. “’Cause I’m too young to die!”

Gaara raised an invisible eyebrow. “We’re suffocating in a tomb Rue. No one will here you scream.” The silenced stretched. “You’re never too young to die.” He added simply. “I’ve seen infants die before their first breath. Their life so fleeting that their own mothers barely remember. Why not you? A mischievous child intent on causing trouble without a second thought.” He paused. “If you die _noble-san_ , it will be insignificant and no one will remember you, because you’re a trouble maker – born to cause misery to others.”

Rue’s eye’s widened with every word Gaara hushed into his ear, each syllable cementing needles into his ribcage.

“No, no, no, no, that’s not true!” He shook his head violently, despite the fact that no one could see him. “I-I just do those things because my brothers do them, that’s all!” Rue explained desperately.

“You say you’re afraid of death, but its people who cause trouble who tend to die first.” Gaara added softly.

“I-I just didn’t want to be different from them!” Rue finally shouted back.

“Why not?” Gaara asked.

“Huh?”

“Why is being different so repulsive? Surely it’s better than being a menace? A rat.”

“Because it just is!” Rue answered weakly.

The child heard a soft sigh from beside him as Gaara shifted in his spot.

“Trouble makers are followed by hate, you will give people reason to despise you and hunt you down. Your brothers are already following a dangerous path.” He stated with a voice full of foreboding promise. “I suggest you try to begin acting like a true noble because all I see is a snotty-nosed infant with hat too large on his head.”

 _“I’m sorry_!” Rue suddenly blurted out into the darkness.

“Why are you apologising?”

There was a wet sniff.

“I don’t know…”

“Those that say sorry are people who have done things that need apologizing. Are you are one of those people Rue?”

“I – no…yes…maybe…” he whimpered as he tried to wipe his snot on his sleeve. “I just wanna to be like my brothers…if I am…then maybe my dad will like me more, instead of ignoring me all the time. I really didn’t mean to be so horrible! Honest! I’m really sorry, I just don’t wanna die down here.”

Gaara held the sand shield above their heads, cocooning both of them in a ball of sand. He had been lucky when he saved Rue before the mine exploded and the rubble avalanched on top of them.

The genin could hear Rue’s labored breath and rapid heartbeat as the child cried and tried to scream his way out. Now the poor boy was sobbing in the dark and Gaara felt pity swirl in his gut. Rue was only nine after all. But Gaara didn’t regret his previous harshness. Humility was sometimes a lesson best served bitter.

Rue hiccupped.

He felt calmer but questioned still ran amok in his mind. Were they ever going to get out of there? Was Rue really going to die down in some dark hole underneath tons of cold stone? Buried alive and never seen again?

As the seconds passed by, Rue once again found it hard to breathe. His mind had dragged him back into that dark place where the black walls crushed his hope.

Just when he was about to start crying again, the noble child felt a warm hand on his head.

He almost jerked back from the contact but he found a hand was drawing slow circles on his back.

A few tense seconds later, Rue suddenly jumped towards the direction he thought Gaara was sitting and clung to the older boy with all the strength he could muster.

Gaara was alarmed to find his arms suddenly occupied by a distressed child. Rue buried his face in Gaara’s stomach and wrapped his small arms around the jinchuuriki’s waist. For a moment, Gaara didn’t know what to do. He forgot how impressionable little children were. A few comforting words and they were suddenly enamored. So after a moment of listening to the panic in the child’s heartbeat, Gaara continued to rub Rue’s back.

“Breath slowly and focus on conserving your breath. Your claustrophobia is all in your mind, it doesn’t exist.” Rue closed his eyes and listened to the strangely comforting drone of the older boy’s voice. “Close your eyes and imagine a field so vast that it meets the open sky without ending. You’re not here.” Warm circles pressed into Rue back. “It’s just you and open skies…”

III

It was near pandemonium on the surface.

Apparently the series of explosion during the fight had attracted some attention and now there were both ninja and ANBU lifting rock after rock. No one was going to risk doing an earth jutsu because it could cause harm to the two boys trapped inside.

Baki had promptly noted that Gaara was not with them. Kankuro had commented that he probably left but Temari and her sensei came to the same conclusion.

Gaara was in _there._ He was trapped underneath all that stone and rock with Rue, meaning that the likely hood that they were both alive had increased due to Gaara’s automatic sand protection. It would be a nightmare to inform the noble patriarch that his son had died because of his own two older children and their recklessness.

Tor and Abu helped as well, and for the first time they were neither snide nor snarky. Guilt sank low in their stomachs.

Kankuro was of course enjoying their misery with Temari but both decided to keep their mouths shut as Baki promised D rank mission for a month.

As the minutes passed by and each boulder was carefully excavated, everyone became increasingly apprehensive. There couldn’t be much air down there for two bodies to breath.

“Sir, we’re breaching the bottom layer now.” A ninja shouted.

Baki nodded and everyone watched as the last remaining stone was pulled away. Tor and Abu were practically crawling forward, hoping to find their brother while Temari and Kankuro waited further back.

What they found was nothing like what they had expected.

After a moment of dumb silence, Kankuro ask what they were all thinking.

“Where the hell are they?!”

Everyone looked into the opened pile of stone and found that there were no bodies inside.

There wasn’t a single trace of either Rue or Gaara.

III

The Fourth Kazekage was about to sign off the last piece of document when an ANBU suddenly appeared before him.

“Speak.” He commanded while putting his pen down.

“Kazekage-sama, you have been asked to join the Noble of the South in the infirmary.” The shinobi explained simply. “He requests your presence immediately.”

The Yondaime looked up and knew immediately what this was about. Suppressing the urge to sigh, he quickly made his way down into the infirmary and found his guest standing next to his son’s bed. The small child called Rue was sitting up with an incredibly subdue pout as the nurses patched his wounds.

The Noble moved around his son and greeted The Fourth.

“Ah, Kazekage-sama, thank you for coming here in such short notice but I thought it would be best if I gave this to you as fast as possible.” The man deposited a scroll into the Kazekage’s hand. “The contract has been signed and sealed.” The noble explained.

The Kazekage simply stared.

“You signed the contract.” He repeated. Only the day before, the Noble had wanted nothing to do with Suna. The Kazekage hid his confusion and asked, “I was under the impression that you required more time before signing the forms.”

The man waved his hand in dismissal. “Yes, but that was yesterday and now I believe I owe your village my son’s life. I am not a man that likes to be in debt.”

Debt? The Kazekage frowned as he unfurled the scroll and read its contents. He looked back up at the Noble in alarm. “You’ve made Suna your exclusive security contact and you want to be a permanent client.”

“Yes, I know it’s not the original contract but this is all I can do for now.” The noble added honestly which only made the Kazekage’s frown deepen.

Not enough? It was a great deal more in Suna’s favor than the previous drafted contract. It was almost too much.

Rue suddenly sat up and gave a deep bow towards the Kazekage. He gave his father a look of support than turned to look at him.

“I humbly apologize for the trouble I have caused and I wish to show my deep gratitude towards your son, Sabaku no Gaara.”

The Fourth Kazekage blinked at the little boy who was bashfully staring up at him from his pillows. What was going on?

“And what did my son do to warrant your gratitude?”  

“Sorry, for not being clear Kazekage-sama.” Rue added a little flustered by his slip-up. “I owe him my life. He saved me from an avalanche and then he came in like _this_ and then like _that_ and then got me out before we both suffocated to death!”

Gaara’s father let the words sink in and decided that the explanation didn’t helped at all.

“Also, we will be leaving this afternoon Kazekage-sama.” The Noble patriarch informed.

The Fourth eyes darted back to the man. “Is your son fit to travel so soon?”

“Yes,” the man nodded. “I’m afraid we’ve made arrangements that cannot be cancelled.” The noble suddenly turned to his son and asked, “Where are your brothers?”

For a moment, Rue didn’t seem to know either but suddenly perked up. “Oh yeah, they don’t know I’m in here. We should probably tell them I’m not dead.” Rue turned back to Gaara’s father and nodded again. “Arigato for your hospitality Kazekage-sama.”

With that said, both Rue and his father left the infirmary with a last bow.

The Kazekage watched them through the window and shook his head. It was all so absurd.

He looked back at the contract in his hand and turned to leave.

III

Temari and Kankuro rejoiced when they heard that they would not be held responsible for the day’s events.

It was even better news when Rue had mysteriously turned up after the whole fiasco. Although the true events remained a bit of a mystery, it was a relieving conclusion. They pushed no more and decided not to pester their youngest brother for answers.

Gaara on the other hand had been avoiding the crowd.

He had tunneled them out of the rubble with his sand through the back to avoid detection. There was no need to be so sneaky but Gaara felt that Tor and Abu needed a few more minutes of grief. Remarkably the event left little long term damage to Suna relationship with the South.

But that was not the reason for Gaara’s sudden solitude.

He needed to think because he suddenly recognised the house symbol embroidered on Tor, Abu and Rue’s clothes.

 _Sabaku no Yuri_.

The desert lily.

During his years as the Godaime Kazekage, Gaara knew all his allies in his surrounding neighborhood.

The Nobles of the South had never been Suna’s ally within his timeline.

It had been that way long before Gaara had taken the title of Kage. What he knew for sure was the South had decided to never involve themselves with Sand. The relationship was neither hostile nor friendly

Keeping that in mind, Gaara knew that something had shifted dramatically.

The genin distinctly remembered that Southern village had been ruled by a _woman_ , not a man. He had seen Tor, Abu and Rue’s father and he was absolutely sure he had never met the man, even in his future. But this very same man had just signed an indefinitely permanent affiliation with Suna on both a social and military level.

The more Gaara thought about it, the more he began to realised that Rue’s father should be dead.

It should have happened either before he arrived for Suna or during.

It definitely should have happened before any opportunity to sign a contract with Suna. There could’ve been hundreds of reason why that man was still alive. There could have been hundreds of ways he could _still_ die. Either killed by thieves or an assassin or an illness or…

…or a lethal allergic reaction…

The wasp.

Gaara closed his eyes.

“Um…hey” Rue called from below.

Gaara broke out of his spiraling thoughts and looked down at the child. He quickly jumped from his perch and landed to face the boy.

Rue shuffled his feet.

“My brother’s didn’t want me to talk to you, since you’re crazy and all, but we’re leaving now…so…”

Gaara watched as the child fiddled with his robes hem and glance uncertainly at him with bashful eyes. The genin inwardly smiled and placed a gentle hand on the boy’s head.

The way the child was looking at him, he believed that he might actually be the boy’s first idol. It was a strange and incredibly ironic thought.

“Are we saying goodbye now?” Gaara asked softly.

Rue looked up with all the innocence of a nine year old and nodded. “I just wanted to say arigato… _nii-san._ ” The last part was said a little uncertainly but he smiled as Gaara patted his head.

“I might not see you again in long time little one.”

Rue looked down, “Yeah…”

“But when we see each other again, show me how much you’ve grown.” Gaara encouraged. “I know you follow your brothers’ lead, but maybe it’s time for your brothers’ to learn from _you_.” Gaara leaned down and gave the smallest smile. “Remember, the old can still learn from the young.”

Rue stared wide eyed at Gaara as he nodded.

“Your father is waiting.” Gaara stood back up. “Till another time _noble-san_.”

The jinchuuriki watched the boy run towards his family and looked back up at the sky.

Things were shifting. He was already causing waves. The question was how he would ride them out.

He could try to fight it with all his might. He could flow through it and leave everything to destiny and chance. Or he could slip, get pull under and drown under its collective weight.

Either way, Gaara was lost in an ocean of shifting sand with nothing but a fragile tether to land.

.

.

.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My brain tends to drip from my ears at 4 am in the morning so I apologize for the patchy action scene. I only hope to keep improving so thank you for sticking with me this far.
> 
> CADEL


	9. Chapter 9

 

Gaara pressed a hand against his seal and closed his eyes.

Shukaku was restless. And so was he.

The genin stood alone as he faced the undulating mounds of sand and stone, each dark shape inking its silhouette against the dark blue of the night sky.

His fingers itched, and the slow heat of his chakra circulating underneath his skin made him tingle with anticipation.

He was far away enough from the village to indulge in a bit of an outlet. His bones ached for it.

So the jinchuuriki scanned the horizon one last time, then closed his eyes. Lifting his hand, Gaara took one slow meditative breath inwards, then pushed everything out.

A torrent of sand began to rise out of the terrain.

It was a monolithic creature, twisting and hovering with the movements of his breath. Each time his exhaled, the massive wall would quiver and vibrate with barely contained energy, each grain waiting to burst into action. A quiet beat later, the sand began to shape the landscape, cutting and crushing the desert into something unfamiliar.

Each hit made powerful impact and each lash sliced into stone.

Even with Shukaku temporarily snubbed out, Gaara’s veins burned with acid. It was exhilarating.

After three hours of continuous experimentations, Gaara finally crouched low and closed his eyes to rest. His control was good, but he was quick to tire.

Gaara shifted his eyes to the sudden movement in his peripheral vision.

The crouching shape of an ANBU soldier was perched gracefully on a boulder far away, his turban gently whipping back, a silk tail glowing under dim moonlight.

The hard lines of the masked did little to bleed away the whiskers on the porcelain.

The Fox had come back.

Gaara had expected his father would send someone out for supervision.

The ANBU stayed a fair distance away, his proximity was a gesture of politeness, indicating that he was neither friend nor foe.

The genin huffed and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Gaara decided to stop abusing the landscape in trade for simple sand manipulation. He gently moulded the sand around his feet to move in small ripples and waves, making several concentric patterns on the desert floor, none of which made a single sound.

The sand looped and arched like pale ribbons, connecting together then flying apart in dazzling fractals. The jinchuuriki artistically pulled and twisted patterns on some great invisible canvas that only he could see.

It was a curious display of moving calligraphy.

Many minutes later, when the temperature of the desert dipped low, Gaara finally ceased his ‘play’ and settled his sand back into his gourd.

The Fox had edged a little closer at some point, his silhouette perched like a gargoyle, his dark Oni eyes tracking the genin’s movements like a hawk.

Gaara tilted his head. The ninja mirrored his movement.

That ANBU was a strange one.

With the tight energy finally gone from his veins, the genin decided it was enough for now.

Gaara gracefully stood and headed back to Suna – his foot prints leaving a great Zen garden made of sand and stone behind him.

III

Gaara appreciated the emptiness at one in the morning.

The dim lanterns flushed the dark alleyways and pull out strange shadows and curious characters. However, Gaara’s peaceful walk was short-lived.

The sounds of hissing voices and pained groaning echoed out from a dark side street to his left.

Two men were brawling in dirt, unaware or uncaring of the bits of rubbish sticking to their bodies as they wrestled. They tumbled in the midst of bones, stale bread and strips of rotting meat, and Gaara could immediately see that neither of them were shinobi. Their ‘fight’ consisted of nothing more than pushing and shoving, like children rolling in the mud.

Gaara was about to leave, but then he saw the side door open, and watched as an old man came hobbling out.

“Please stop, you’ll wake the other villagers up.” He requested with a rusty deep voice that was both sleepy and dry.

The two men didn’t take notice of the old man’s words.

“She’s mine!”

“No she’s mine!”

“I’m the man she wants! Who the hell would want a beggar like you?”

“Big words for a dolt with a brain the size of a sunflower seed!”

“Take that back you asshole!”

“Make me!”

The heated conversation carried on in a similar manner and the old man stood awkwardly to the side, at lost at what to do.

At some point, when the fight had escalated to actual punches, Gaara could only watch as a stray limb connected to the old man’s chest. The elder shop keeper helplessly tried to balance himself on his cane, but eventually collapsed to the ground against his door.

Neither one of the brawlers noticed.

Gaara’s eyes narrowed.

The old man wheezed, sucking in air as he tried to regain his breath. A thin trail of blood slowly oozed down the old man’s shoulder, staining his yukata red.

No one saw how fast the sand came bolting towards them.

A moment later, the two fighters found themselves hanging upside down by their legs.

Both faces turned blank with confusion, unsure why the sky had suddenly switched places with the ground. The tightening on their legs brought their attention to the ominous sand around their ankles. Sudden realisation bled into their eyes when they finally saw the jinchuuriki.

He was a pacifist yes, but old habits die hard. Gaara felt he was entitled to _indulge_.

“I wonder how you would taste.” Gaara whispered with exaggerated widening of his eyes.

Both men stopped breathing.

“P-please, don’t eat us!” one managed to beg. “W-we’ll do anything, just let us go!”

The young genin tilted his head to the side like a bird playing with a worm. “Why? What use do you have if you can’t even notice the simplest things?”

Gaara nodded towards the old man still struggling to get back up with his walking cane.

“I can hardly imagine any kind of creature would want you two, let alone a woman.” Gaara hissed quietly. “Perhaps…” the genin took a step forward, “you will be more useful to Shukaku.”

The two men were no longer protesting anymore and waited for their imminent end. Gaara raised his hand and they visibly flinched back, watching between guarded, terrified eyes. The sand crept down their limbs and towards their torso, gently wrapping around soft flesh and bones.

Gaara gave them one last condemning glare and then clenched his fist shut.

Their choked off screams echoed through the closed off alleyway.

But the carnage never came. There was no artwork of meaty fluid splashed across the walls. No blood splatter strewn on the ground.

There was only silence. Followed by a rude _ripping_ noise.

All that was left were two men gracelessly dumped in the middle of rotting organic matter. Other than mild bruises from the fall, they were untouched – more confused than hurt.

Not a moment later, when the shock wore off, they noticed something important was missing.

They were completely in the nude. Wearing nothing but their birthday suits and displaying their unmentionables in all their glory.                                                                                                  

They blinked at each other as the unwanted visuals continued to baffle them, strips of their clothing falling to the ground. When their graceless and humiliating situation finally sank in, the two men scrambled back, attempting to hide their privates with pieces of garbage.

Gaara sighed in a way that an old man might at a pack of nasty children. “It seems I’m not in the mood for junk food tonight.”

Without warning, Gaara whipped his sand out against the wall next to their heads and scared them into bolting out of the alleyway. The speed of which they ran was impressive.

The young boy closed his eyes.

There might have been no blood, but there was most certainly a lot of flesh.

Turning his attention back to the old man, Gaara walked closer to inspect the injuries. He was frail, but still managing to stand on his own two feet without assistance.

“Are you alright?” Gaara asked neutrally.

The old man adjusted his cane and winced when he moved his shoulder.

The jinchuuriki eyed a bloodied nail on the wall.

He raised his hand to further inspect the wound, but the old man suddenly hissed and drew back with a violent jerk. Gaara paused in his step and pulled his hand away.

Before the genin could make any further decision on the matter, the old man shuffled away, pressing himself against the wall and grappled at the doorknob.

Forgetting his cane, he rushed back into the house and bolted the door, leaving Gaara standing in the alleyway.

The young genin lowered his gaze to the walking cane.

He swiftly picked it up, leaned it against the wall, and made his way back home without a second glance.

III

Kankuro was rarely in such a foul mood.

But he found he could barely string a sentence that didn’t contain a curse.

He spent forty hours making plans for his new puppets. He smoothed out all the flaws, and then he meticulously made each nail, bolt, and gear to a perfect fit.

Only to be completely ruined by a freak accident involving boulders, steam and walnuts.

Of course, being a shinobi meant he was to expect the unexpected. So off he went to create the entire thing all over again, and this time, he resolved to make it even better.

So Kankuro began from scratch.

Half way through writing out a new plan that involved poisoned edged retractable blades and sense distorting hallucinogens, the young puppeteer had knocked over his glass of juice.

 _Fortunately_ Kankuro quickly pulled it away and saved most of the plans from a sugary destruction.

 _Unfortunately_ in his haste, he knocked the candle on other side and his plans disappeared into fiery oblivion.

The genin began to develop a nervous twitch that had not been there before.

And he was pretty sure he burnt his left eyebrow as well. He was starting to look like Gaara.

Mark three.

He was going to do this entire thing outside, seeing as the house was proving to be more hazardous than he previously thought.

It was decent weather for an outdoor project, and he could test out the long range automatic projectiles, so Kankuro busied himself in a haze of forced determination.

Apparently his puppets were rather amazing to the kids in the neighbourhood.

They watched in awe whenever Kankuro made his puppets move. It was a rather nice feeling being recognized for his hard work, a stroke to the ego that Kankuro felt he needed. It did start to get a little annoying however, especially when they interrupted him to ask more questions and demonstrations.

Can it fly?

Does have knives?

Make it talk.

Make it sing.

S _ing_? That last one made no sense.

After repeating that Kankuro could no longer indulge the little kiddies, they sneered and said his puppet was a useless piece of junk anyway.

After Kankuro manage to refrain from swearing like a sailor, he decided that it was way too hot and he needed to get a drink…this time he would keep it away from his project to avoid any potential disasters. So after a refreshing glass of cold tea, Kankuro came back out to continue on his project.

Only to find that the puppets head was completely severed (something even enemy ninja had failed to do) and kicked to the other side of the street. The strings were in a complete tangle and the blueprints had completely disappeared.

Kankuro’s world dripped red.

He had to wrangled his sudden homicidal urges, because killing children was Gaara’s thing and very much frowned upon.

Whatever Zen Kankuro possessed had been slowly scraped away with sandpaper. So he picked up the remains of his poor puppet and went back inside for an impressive sulking session.

This time, he refused to touch any of his blueprints, and began sharpening his kunai and shurikens with barely contained irritation.

III

Temari’s day started out good.

Then she swallowed a mouthful of rotten milk.

Tossing away the rancid carton, she resorted to eating some tasteless dry fruit instead.

By the time the kunoichi left the house with her war fan strapped to her back, she decided it was best to forget the terrible start to her day and also the terrible churning in her stomach. She made her way down to the training grounds, but was interrupted by a drunken man on the street. _What idiot drinks this early in the morning?_

The drunkard attempted to touch Temari’s backside, which resulted in the sudden snap of said man’s wrist.

Of course, afterwards Temari found out that the man was in fact a distant relative of the daimyo, so naturally threats began to pour out of the man’s sour mouth. The blond kunoichi hardly listened and whacked him over the head again.

That was _after_ he poured an entire bottle of sake on her dress.

So Temari turned right back around to get a new change of clothes, but in her haste, she bumped into an elderly lady on the street.

 _Fortunately_ Temari caught the woman before she fell.

 _Unfortunately_ the old hag was a prude.

When she smelt the sake on Temari’s dress, she began to rage at the kunoichi for being an irresponsible drunk, and other less than nice words.

Temari began to develop a twitch that was not there before.

After the lecture, Temari decided that she really should have stayed home. But she reasoned that ninja were to expect the unexpected, so she continued home.

Changing out of the alcohol soaked dress should have been a simple matter, but after long minutes of searching, Temari realised she had nothing to wear. All her training clothes were still sitting in the washing basket.

It seemed Kankuro had forgotten to do his rotation for the washing, leaving Temari with no clean clothes to wear.

Pushing the sudden urge to commit fratricide, Temari wrenched her wardrobe open and searched for anything to wear that was training appropriate.

Now, Temari was a reasonable girl with little regards for fashion and useless materialistic things.

But even the strong and pragmatic Temari could not see herself wearing a horrific piece of clothing that had unnatural clumps of lace and was a truly ghastly shade of fungus green.

After a moment of wondering why she even possessed such a demonic thing, Temari turned to the only other thing she could wear.

Her training uniform from three years ago. It was the only thing she managed to fit in…but only just.

The item of clothing was so tight, her belly was exposed under the mesh and the skirt was too short. But she managed to squeeze into it and decided to keep wearing her black shorts underneath to keep some modesty, despite it smelling like alcohol.

By the time she began walking to her destination, Temari found herself objected to the stares of everyone. Mostly men.

She reeled in the need to break femurs because she knew her clothes, or lack-there-off, would attract attention. The tight, belly exposing training outfit that squeezed her breast in all the wrong ways made her look like a whore…just like the damn old hag was raving on about earlier.

After being whistled and leered at like a half-naked circus clown, Temari raced to the training grounds, not to get away from them, but to keep them away from _her_. The kunoichi was at breaking point after the third attempt at being slapped on the ass, and found she was close to committing multiple homicides that would make Gaara proud.

Taking into account that both Kankuro and Temari were in equally bad moods, their meeting at the training session could only end in disaster.

III

Baki had a pleasantly mild morning with little to no incident.

His students would be offended.

So he was a little surprised to find Temari and Kankuro attempting to earnestly maim each other.

Training a dysfunctional and unstable team of genin, Baki expected every encounter with his students to be unexpected. But despite having a murderous killer on the team, Kankuro and Temari balanced out Gaara’s volatility with their own grounded and blunt personalities.

So it was strange to find Kankuro and Temari in an all-out fight that seemed more vicious in nature than just innocent training.

Their kunai’s met in the middle with a sharp clang and sparks erupted from the forceful contact.

The two siblings growled at each other and separated as soon as they met.

“You useless excuse of a human, can’t you even do one thing right?!” Temari spat as she threw a wave shurikens at her brother. “Your _only_ chore is to do the laundry!”

Kankuro ducked and kicked Temari from her feet only to narrowly escape a kunai to the neck.

“I did do it!” he growled back. “But I didn’t see your stuff! You left them underneath the blanket pile! How the hell was I supposed to know they were there?!”

Temari gave him a solid punch in the jaw.

“ _Common sense_ you little shit!”

Kankuro punched her in the stomach and kicked her behind her knees.

“I forgot only _once_! If you’re so angry about it, do your own damn washing ya useless slob.”

Temari swept Kankuro from beneath and whacked him under the ribs, followed by bending his fingers back with a vicious jerk.

“Say that again and I’ll cut your tongue out.” She hissed maliciously.

The puppeteer twisted out of her grasp and shoved his knee into her back then slammed her face into the ground with his elbow.

“Only if you can catch me _princess_.” He taunted derisively.

Pulling out their weapons again, they escalated their assaults.

They aimed for vital nerves and soft spots with serious intent to maim. Neither gave the other any room as they continued both their verbal and their physical spar.

Baki watched on, baffled at the level of undisciplined violence behind every punch and kick. It was impressive. It was also reckless.

The jounin spied Gaara approaching the border of the training field, and took note that the youngest sibling had been watching for some time now.

“They seem angry.” Gaara pointed out as he approached.

Baki blinked and then answered, “Yes they do.”

“Should they be stopped?”

Baki noted that the question didn’t sound like Gaara asked because he wanted to know. The jounin turned back to watched Temari and Kankuro.

“For now it’ll be okay, they need to vent. No use keeping in all that pent up frustration.” Baki answered. “Will you be joining us today?”

Gaara took a seat on the floor next to his sensei and nodded. “Yes.”

Baki nodded, then froze when he fully comprehended Gaara’s answer. He asked merely as a formality. He didn’t expect Gaara to actually say yes. He never said yes.

Baki cleared his throat.

“That’s…good to hear. I was going to get Kankuro and Temari to do some casual sparing, but seeing as those two have started without us, you can spar with me.”

A small part of Baki wondered when the last time Gaara had actually spared with anybody. The genin nodded and stretched out his legs. Teacher and student moved a little farther away and made some space for them to begin training.

Giving the signal, they both slipped into their taijutsu stances.

III

There was a moment were neither student nor teacher moved.

Then Gaara shifted his stance and lashed out in a basic offensive manoeuvre. Baki neatly counterattacked it.

After a simple undercut and a back kick which Gaara executed accurately, Baki realised that the boy was not putting much power in his moves. It was light the entire way through their spar and they only used basic taijutsu, never making any fancy moves or sneak attacks.

The jounin admitted that it took a moment to become accustomed to the idea that Baki could actually make physical contact with Gaara’s body at all. He managed to tap the boys shoulder, and he brushed his foot against his thigh. There were moments where Baki found himself hesitating to penetrate Gaara’s personal space due to the habit of expecting sand to suddenly bolt up. But it never came.

Its absence was…disconcerting.

Baki blocked a punch and side stepped another kick. The jounin’s eyes sharpened.

Where was Shukaku? Its absence was not missed, not by a long shot. Perhaps Gaara had excelled at controlling his sand better than anyone had expected.

Either way, the jounin was certain of one thing. Something had drastically changed.

A solid kick connected with the jounin’s stomach as Gaara lashed out another back kick towards his sensei’s neck.

Baki dodged Gaara’s increasing assaults and intercepted every hit with his own. The pace began to rise and Baki knew they both silently agreed on a more serious fight.

After twenty more minutes of their escalating spar, they both hit their crux with a sudden volley of attacks that weaved through each other offenses and defences.

At some point, Gaara’s eyes shifted to the right, as if distracted by something, but that was all Baki needed to connect the final move and solidly kick Gaara against a boulder.

The boy’s body hit the rock with a heavy thud and slid down to the ground.

As their spar grew higher in complexity and speed, Baki had begun to expect Gaara to meet every one of his katas, which the boy did to his mild surprise.

But Gaara didn’t stop that last kick at all.

Baki edged closer. The genin was slumped over, his face completely out of view as the dust settled around him.

Despite being his sensei, Baki could honestly say that he had never knocked Sabaku no Gaara out before. And with good reason. The teacher approached and examined the extent of his student’s injuries.

He was a little stunned when a fist suddenly flew at his face. But as a skilled jounin, he easily blocked it.

But it had been a decoy.

Gaara suddenly pushed off the ground and swept Baki completely off his feet.

The older ninja avoided a mouth full of dirt by quickly stopping his fall with his palms, and back flipped into a half crouch. He gave a quick glance at Gaara who casually dusted off his clothes.

With the smallest of smirks, Baki turned to his student.

“Good.” He rubbed his jaw where a bruise was starting to smart.

Their fight had been almost anti-climactic, but no matter what he had expected, it was a new experience.

“Your taijutsu is slower than Temari’s, and your hits are less powerful than Kankuro’s, but you’re sneakier than both.”

Gaara shifted his cool gaze to his teacher. “I can’t beat you, not in a taijutsu fight.” It was an honest admission.

“Probably won’t be able to win against your siblings either. Not in taijutsu at least.” Baki added neutrally. “So you use manipulation, distraction and underestimation as a substitute for your lack of finesse.” Baki was mildly surprise that Gaara used anything other than his sand at all. That was something new.

The abnormally civil training session became increasingly bizarre when Gaara asked, “What do I need to improve on?”

Baki ignored the small part of him that was startled by Gaara’s willing request for advice and answered, “You’re not a locomotive fighter, so taijutsu doesn’t match your style, but you have the basics expertly memorized and executed. Normally I would say to improve your speed, but I personally don’t think it would contribute to your existing skill set, so the best course of action is improving your stamina.”

Gaara thought for a moment. “Higher stamina eliminates rapid exhaustion and improves the likelihood of increased endurance, speed and accuracy.”

Baki nodded at the boy’s accurate analysis. “Conquer that and you conquer all.”

The jinchuuriki nodded. “Perhaps I’ll work on it later.”

Baki slipped one of his blades back into his pouch.

His view on the village’s jinchuuriki had always been a little different from other shinobi. His constant and unhealthy proximity to Gaara made sure of that. But the jounin didn’t see Gaara _solely_ as a demon vessel. He was a student. And Gaara felt like one of students at that moment as he watched Gaara pick a pebble from his hair.

Baki sighed inwardly and decided that his entire cohort of little genin were all bi-polar.

After a contemplative moment, the jounin asked, “Are you controlling your sand at the moment?”

The genin shifted his pale eyes towards his sensei and answering, “No.”

“You were holding back your defence while we were sparring.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” He answered simply.

“Why?”

Baki could’ve sworn he saw Gaara’s non-existent eyebrows raise a tiny fraction.

“Sparring would be difficult if you couldn’t make contact, yes? I thought it’d be best to keep the automatic shield at bay.”

“I wasn’t aware you had such control over it.” Baki added with questioning eyes.

Gaara gave a look that was neither caring nor dismissive. “It seems that I do.”

There was a moment of silence in which Baki just eyed his unstable student, no discernible expression present on his face or in his eyes.

Deciding not to push his luck, he left it at that with a simple nod.

III

Temari and Kankuro once again met in the middle with a clang of metal on metal, feral rage glinting dangerously against their blades.

Baki decided his student could kill each other another day.

“Alright, that’s enough you two.”

He was promptly ignored as Kankuro sliced into his sister’s arm with a wicked grin.

Temari in turn, swung her closed fan and slammed her little brother into the ground in one hit.

One of Kankuro’s kunai deflected off Temari’s weapon and shot straight towards Gaara. Of course the jinchuuriki’s automatic sand protected him instantly.

The jounin frowned. Killer instincts were good, deadly skills were great, but vicious intent on maiming your own family member was not. This was no longer a spar.

“I said that’s enough!” Their sensei finally commanded.

Finally taking notice of their impatient teacher, the two sand siblings glared at each other through a curtain of sweat and blood.

“You’re dismissed for the day.” Baki repeated.

“What? But we only just arrived.” Kankuro complained while still glaring at his sister.

“We come together to _train,_ not slaughter each other.”

Temari slipped her fan back on her back and snorted. “We were just sparring.”

Baki narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure where all this anger is coming from, but as shinobi, we are disciplined to not let our emotions interfere with our missions.” He glared at his students. “ _That_ was not sparring.”

Kankuro dusted himself off and ignored his cuts and bruises. “Whatever, I’m going.” Then the puppeteer promptly left.

Temari didn’t say anything and picked up her weapons, slipping them back into her pouch. Baki shook his head and called out, “We have training tomorrow, same time.”

Of course he was ignored again.

Baki was once again left with his last student and found Gaara had suddenly become his calmest student. He picked up the remaining weapons and rubbed his brow as exhaustion overwhelmed him. He really was getting too old for this.

“They seem a little…tense.” Gaara suddenly stated.

Baki turned to Gaara’s voice from behind him. The boy was still standing there, his eyes watching his sister leave the training field.

The jounin shrugged, “They’re probably just frustrated.”

Gaara silently followed his sensei. “About what?”

“Lack of progress.” Baki sighed.

“They’re progressing fine.” Gaara suddenly argued.

Baki ignored the tone and explained. “They’re one of the two strongest genin in the village and they’ve been gradually rising in power and skill. Yet they’re not hitting the expectation they’ve set for themselves.” Baki knew Temari and Kankuro were by far one of the most promising shinobi of their generation. “Temari is already Chūnin level and Kankuro is well on his way there, yet they’re still genin.”

Gaara turned away and glared at the floor, the pebbles between his sandals were dry and grey.

He had forgotten the large part he played in his sibling’s shinobi career. Baki-sensei was right – his siblings were very skilled for their age and have already begun mastering their specialties – yet they remained low ranked.

Gaara understood that he was to blame.

Temari and Kankuro could only progress as long as the conditions surrounding Gaara allowed it.

They had been held back mainly due to his unstable personality and the lack of cohesion in their unit. It must have been doubly terrible for Baki-sensei because the jounin was responsible for _all_ three of the Kazekage’s children, while knowing there was an axe above his head.

They didn’t fit. They wouldn’t fit. At least not until Gaara’s fated meeting with his orange maelstrom friend and that was a year away.

Guilt the genin thought he had resolved years ago twisted in his throat.

Gaara turned to his teacher. “It won’t last long. They’ll get better in their own time.”

Baki looked at his student strangely and levelled him with a curious gaze. A moment later he gave a humourless laugh.

“I should hope so, or your father won’t be pleased.” It was a weak joke that he didn’t expect Gaara to appreciate but surprisingly the boy’s lips turned upwards by a fraction.

“You know sensei,” Gaara began. “You’re good with children. Ever thought of having some of your own?”

Baki nearly swallowed his tonsil. _“What?”_

Gaara just looked at him with no trace of jesting. Yet, Baki was sure that the boy had attempted a…joke? Or at least some version of teasing. And if not, then he was being serious. All notions were not comforting. In his confusion the jounin failed to notice Gaara already walking away.

But he did note with some startle that Gaara had called him _sensei_ for the first time.

III

Gaara inspected the baked delicacies with a critical eye.

The young jinchuuriki looked left then right but found the area around his front door empty. How baffling.

As soon as he took off his shoes, Gaara saw Kankuro lugging his puppet Crow down the stairs, the scowl on his face was as menacing as the one painted on his puppet.

Looking back at the basket in his hands, Gaara had an idea.

The jinchuuriki poked his head around the corner and spied Kankuro sitting crossed-legged on the living room floor, tinkering away with the gears inside his puppet. His finger worked deftly but there was irritation and frustration in every movement.

Without warning, Gaara shoved the basket of pastries at Kankuro.

“Here.”

“Wha…?” The startled puppeteer blinked at Gaara then at the hamper. Not entirely sure what to do with it, he slowly grabbed the basket by the handle and awkwardly held them in his lap. “Er…thanks?”

“It’s not for you.” His younger brother suddenly added. “Give it to Temari.”

The puppeteer blinked again at the odd statement. “What?”

“Woman like desserts don’t they?”

“…I guess?” Kankuro answered in confusion.

“Give it to her.” Gaara repeated, unfazed by his brother’s lack of comprehension.

Kankuro stared a little too long.

Then he slowly asked. _“Why?”_

His younger brother shrugged. “Food makes people feel better.”

Kankuro just blinked again in both bafflement and disbelief. What the heck was going on? Food makes people feel better? Kankuro was sure that ‘food’ meant something different for the Gaara and ‘better’ had a whole other meaning which he really didn’t want to find out.

He looked at the hamper then back to his brother. He was still standing there with an odd expression that might have been called _expectant_ …had it been on anyone else’s face.

“Um…okay. I’ll uh…do that.” With another odd look, the puppeteer slowly stood up and promptly power-walked out of the room.

Gaara blinked at his brother’s quick exit then nodded in approval.

He guessed Kankuro really wanted to make up with Temari after all. That went a lot better that he’d expected.

III

It was three in the afternoon when Temari spied Gaara in an odd place.

The young jinchuuriki was standing by a rubbish bin in an alleyway near the civilian district.

She squinted to make sure there wasn’t any sand in her eyes because she was pretty sure her baby brother was holding a walking stick. After a few moments of careful deliberation, she cursed herself and approached him.

“Gaara?” she asked hesitantly, not at all keen on breaking the genin’s attention.

The boy didn’t turn to her immediately but continued to stare at the cane in rapt fascination.

The blond kunoichi patiently waited for Gaara to respond but all she saw were Gaara’s eyes suddenly sharpening. He suddenly moved to the side window of an old shoe repair store and peered in, nose pressed and his face flat against the glass.

Temari jumped back in alarm when the sound of splintered wood echoed in the narrow alleyway.

She stared wide-eyed as Gaara kicked open the door down and walked in like it was his house. Giving herself a moment to gape, she promptly followed her brother inside. She watched as he searched the rooms, rummaging around and peering into every part of the small shop.

The blond couldn’t understand what her brother was doing breaking into some run-down shoe-repair store in the middle in the civilian district.

“Gaara,” she began with a hesitant hush, “What are you doing?”

The boy didn’t answer and continued searching.

Temari spread her chakra outwards and tried to feel for the presence of another person. It didn’t take long because the moment she detected the person, Gaara had already found him. He was in one of the back room that served as a bedroom and also a workshop.

An elderly man in his late fifties was sprawled on his back, seemingly asleep were it not for the fact that he was on the floor.

Temari crouched closer and watched Gaara begin to inspect the old man with surprising gentleness. Her brother reached for the man’s pulse and then pried the man’s mouth to search for anything in his airways.  

“We have to take the man to the hospital.” Temari insisted. She supressed a scowl at Gaara’s continuing lack of response. “Come on we –”

The old man suddenly mumbled something incoherent and his eyes momentarily opened but closed just as fast. He was still semi-lucid but still too ill to be aware of his surroundings. 

The kunoichi stopped as she watched Gaara suddenly lift the old man’s shoulder and peel the yukata away from his skin.

On the back of his shoulder blade was a small puncture wound.

It was almost undetectable, but the swollen skin around the wound was angry and red. Temari didn’t have to be a medic to understand that it was infected.

Gaara suddenly stood up, searched briefly and came back with a medical kit from one of the draws in the room. He deftly pulled out a small packet from the kit and ripped it open with his teeth. To Temari’s surprise it was a small wooden flat, sterile stick. She wasn’t even sure what it was used for.

She watched with mild bafflement as Gaara gently pried open the old man’s jaw and inserted the stick down his mouth.

Instead of naturally alerting the gag reflex to spit the foreign object back out, teeth suddenly clamped down on the wood and held it in place. 

She didn’t know what that meant but it seemed that Gaara did.

“Lockjaw.” He stated quietly.

The muscles around the old man’s face were tense and tended to twitch with small spasms. The spasms included the rest of the body as the muscles seemed to revolt against him. To add to the list of symptoms, the beginnings of a bad fever was apparent by the perspiration on the old man’s forehead and his old age wasn’t doing him any favours.

Without another word Gaara wrapped his sand around the semi-lucid elderly and gently lifted him off the ground.

For a moment Temari was gripped by a terrible uncertainty, but it was short lived as she watched her brother do nothing more than transport the old man out the door.

He made his way to Suna’s hospital with Temari hot on his heels.

III

Instead of using the door, both siblings entered the hospital through a large open portal on the second floor.

They gave the nurses a terrible scare as they jumped in. Gaara ignored her and every other odd stare he received as he moved through corridor towards the receptionist desk.

The poor woman manning the desk had the colour in her face drained to white as Gaara approached her, a body hovering behind him.

Gaara finally stopped at the desk and with nothing more than mild acknowledgement, he requested, “I need a doctor.”

If it was possible, she became two shades paler and promptly fainted, gracelessly falling off her seat.

Gaara took a moment to examine the unconscious receptionist then looked around to see if there was someone else who could be more helpful. He didn’t have to wait long since the head doctor came rushing down the hallway with two nurses and a jounin trailing behind him.

The new staff immediately stopped at the entrance of the lobby and wearily eyed the genin. The head doctor took a moment to steel himself and turned to the jinchuuriki.

“How can we help you Gaara-sama?”

“I need a doctor.” Gaara repeated, his tone almost hasty. “I have a patient that needs assistance.”

A nurse edged closer and inspected the receptionist on the floor then nodded towards the main doctor. The physician eyed the boy with apprehension then asked the nurse, “What happened to her?”

“She just fainted sir.” The nurse replied with some relief.

The doctor nodded without taking his eyes off Gaara. The jounin behind the doctor had drawn his weapons at the ready, eyed narrowed sharp like razor blades.

“…I’m the head doctor, so maybe I could help you?” The doctor offered diplomatically, while becoming aware of the beads of sweat forming on his brow. He shifted his gaze to the old man in the jinchuuriki’s grip. “Just place the man down and we’ll take it from there.”

The sand shifted and moved forwards towards the doctor with the old man inside. With a gentle release, he placed the limp body on the floor and took a step back. They cautiously watched the jinchuuriki’s every movement.

Temari who had been standing to the side suddenly felt irritated by their lack of action.

“The man needs medical attention.” When they failed to move, she barked out, “ _Now._ ”

The nurses soon followed the orders and carefully lifted the old man onto a bed and rolled him away.

The jounin was still staring at Gaara with his weapons drawn out.

Gaara on the other hand ignored him and walked towards Temari.

Her brother leaned in and quietly instructed, “Inform them he has a tetanus infection.”

With that, Gaara made his exit out of the same portal they came through, leaving Temari standing in the hospital hallway.

After a moment, she did as instructed. The doctors immediately agreed with her and went as far as to _praise_ her for the accurate medical observation. After some thought, she didn’t correct him that she was not the one that made the assessment.

It was as Temari was leaving the lobby, she overheard two people talking in hushed whispers by the water cooler.

“Is it true?” hissed a voice from around the corner. “Was _it_ here?”

Temari spied around the corner and saw a middle aged civilian woman talking to a nurse.

The nurse seemed openly edgy.

“Ah…well, the child in no longer here.” She seemed reluctantly to confirm the woman but wanted to soothe her worries at the same time. “The vicinity is safe, I assure you ma’am.”

“That _thing_ is not a child.” The woman hissed. “And if it managed to come in here, how safe can this place be?” she clutched a fearful fist to her chest. “My son is here to get his tonsils removed, how can I be sure the demon won’t go crazy and kill him?”

The nurse calmed the woman down while sending surreptitious glances around her, clearly just as unsettled as the woman.

“Please, I apologize for any concern we may have caused you, I’m sure the demon won’t come back.” It sounded like the nurse was trying to convince herself.  

“It better not!” snapped the civilian woman. “That _thing_ is surely up to no good! Coming into a hospital of all places to cause trouble,” She shook her head in open fear and anger. “Evil, pure evil! It’s better off dead!”  

The nurse didn’t say anything in return as she gently manoeuvred the distressed civilian down the hallway.

Temari moved away from the corner and stared after the women.

The blond kunoichi had heard many things about Gaara through second hand conversations for many years. Rumours of the little boy with an insatiable taste for blood had always run parallel with her memories of youth. In fact, the blanket of prejudice towards Gaara was so intense, that she understood he had become a scapegoat of sorts. So quick for people think the worst and she knew because she did the same.

Just as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, his dangerous and homicidal nature was simply just a fact, one which she had never disputed.

So the tightness in her belly felt distinctly uncomfortable. Her fingers itched in irritation as she watched the civilian and the nurse disappear around the corner. She was unsure of how she felt about all of it.

But at the back of her mind she already knew.

It was the injustice of blatant prejudice that Temari, for once, had been there to see. She witnessed Gaara’s small deed, almost like he was capable of benevolence and maybe if the world was a little kinder, that might have been exactly what it was.

It was unsettling to be on the other side – on the other side where she was forced to see things through a different coloured glass.

Temari liked it better when Gaara was the bad guy and everyone was good.

III

Kankuro shifted on his feet as he waited for his father to speak.

The Fourth Kazekage had his hands clasps firmly behind his back as he peered out the window of his office. His eldest son waited in apprehension.

“I take it that your leg is better now?” The Fourth finally spoke.

Kankuro was startled out of his own thoughts. “My leg?”

His father turned around to give his son a critical look. “Yes, the leg which was cut open during last week’s Ichibi attack.”

The genin quickly nodded. “Oh yeah, it’s better Kazekage-sama, thank you.”

“You can drop the honorifics Kankuro.” The man added. “This isn’t an official summoning.”

The boy relaxed slightly, “Oh…was there something you wanted father?” Kankuro asked curiously.

“How are things at home? Has there been any progression within your unit?”

Thinking back on the recent hostility with Temari at home and the ever present paranoia with Gaara around, Kankuro open his mouth, only to shut it again.

Finally the young genin replied, “It’s…not bad.”

The Fourth sat down and signalled for Kankuro to do the same. “Baki tells me that you’ve all been progressing well in your training. I heard that your puppet _Crow_ has been modified again.”

“Yeah well,” Kankuro began hesitantly. “There hasn’t been _that_ much progress, things keep…interrupting me.” He shrugged trying to forget his horrible bout of bad luck for the past week.  “Home is fine I guess, nothing really worth noting.”

The Kazekage laced his fingers together. “How is your sister?”

“Good, no change since the last time you saw her. Still snarky.”

The puppeteer began to get the feeling that his father was fishing for something.

“And Gaara?”

Kankuro looked back up at his father and searched for a proper response. “Gaara is…being Gaara.”

“I’ve been informed that his behaviour within your unit has been considered stable?” The Fourth commented lightly.

“‘Stable’ is not the word I’d use.” The genin gave his father a strained look. “Baki-sensei would have already informed you about our team progress.”

The Kazekage stared at Kankuro, “Yes, but Baki-sensei isn’t his brother and neither does he live with him. Your insight in Gaara’s behaviour is the one I want.”

Kankuro should have known that his father had wanted something more than just a friendly family meet up.

“Gaara has been…unpredictable of late.” The genin finally answered.

“Unstable?”

“Well no, not exactly. He’s always unstable but…it’s more like he’s been acting out if character.” The Kazekage waited patiently for Kankuro to continue. The puppeteer wracked his brain for the right words. “His hasn’t been following his usual pattern of behaviour.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know…” the puppeteer admitted lamely. “Sneaky? No, not sneaky…more like he’s watching, constantly watching and observing and just being really, really weird. At least a little more than usual.”

“Do you suspect a hidden threat in his deviant behaviour?” his father suddenly asked firmly.

Suddenly finding the conversation sounding more like a mission report, Kankuro answered, “I can’t be sure but it’s safe to assume that anything Gaara does is dangerous. It’s just that he hasn’t done anything at all since the demon got loose a week ago.” The boy scrunched his brow. “I’ve never known Gaara to have stayed this subdue for so long, not in my memory at least. It’s too quiet…I feel he’s going to do something when the calm ends.”

The Fourth Kazekage stared a little longer at his eldest son and then gave a nod. “I see.”

Kankuro scratched his head. “Honestly, it’s gotten Temari and Baki-sensei on edge, they’re feeling the tension and it’s bugging out some of the other shinobi as well.”

“Your sensei tells me that he comes to team trainings now.” Kazekage mentioned with a deceptively light inquiring voice.

The genin nodded “Yeah at least five times now.”

“He doesn’t train with you does he?”

“No, he just watches.” Kankuro shook his head. “No actually, I forgot about today’s session…I think he was sparring with sensei.”

The Kazekage pinned his eldest with his questioning eyes. “Is that so? What was the outcome?”

“Uh…” Kankuro shifted on spot and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t really know…”

His father raised an unamused eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

The genin resisted an embarrassed flush as he realised he let the unusual incident slip him by. “I wasn’t really paying attention at the time…”

The young genin almost cringed when his father continued to pin him down with his eyes.

Gaara’s participation in that training session was just another addition to the long line of things that went against his typical behaviour. He was just too busy trying to maim his sister.

 “Er…I’m sure sensei could give you a debriefing.”

After a moment of silence, Kankuro’s father shifted some paper on his desk and leaned back into his chair.

“Your brother has always been special, special to this village and vital to our military power, regardless of his mental stability.” The Fourth stood up and looked at Kankuro in the eye, the whole weight of his words heavy in his stare. “But as his father I’ve been forced to do things no father wishes to do. I need you to understand this.”

Kankuro carefully hid his confusion and nodded. “I do.”

“And as Gaara’s brother, there are things that you might have to do that you may not wish.”

The puppeteer tensed as the heavy words began to sink uncomfortably in his stomach. He looked up at his father with a strange foreboding in his gut.

“Kankuro, as the Kazekage of Suna and also your father, I have something to ask of you.”

III

Night slowly crawled over the desert, bleeding its colours cold.

A silent figure stalked over the sand dunes to gaze down at the glittering lights of Sunagakure.

A cloak whipped back like dark wings stretched against the sky as the silhouette crouched low and dangerous.

All that could be seen in the inky darkness was the unwavering stars painted above…and the red wheel of a spinning sharingan.

.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We have a new baby boy in the house. Hazzah! 
> 
> P.S - I’d like to also mention that a serious onset of tetanus takes much longer than one night to set in, but for the sake of the story, I sped it up.
> 
> Keep it Kool.
> 
> CADEL


	10. Chapter 10

 

Four Suna Nin inspected the corpse hanging limply over the edge of a roof.

Not at all macabre but reasonably clean and efficient: a simple blow to the head followed by a quick slice of the throat.

The dead shinobi’s last moment was an ironically ignorant end.

Two ninjas darted around the body and began to search out a scent like blood hounds on a hunt. Another checked over the body and confirmed it beyond resuscitation. The fourth was the leader of the team and after a grim examination of the situation; he ran towards the Kazekage Dome.

Standing at attention in front of their Kage, the captain obediently bowed.

“We have an infiltrator and one known casualty. The body is being transported for further examination as we speak.”

The Kazekage stood with his back turned away and nodded. “I see.”

It was perhaps the odd tone in which his leader spoke that made the shinobi realise that something was amiss in the room. Where the Kazekage stood was a mess, not the usual office clutter but an almost vandalised disorganisation.

“Kazekage-sama…” There was a moment of bland hesitation then the ninja continued, “Is everything alright?”

The Kazekage suddenly turned around. “A team has been sent out to track the attacker yes?”

“Affirmative Kazekage-sama, we believe there to be only one so far. The attack happened roughly ten to twenty minutes ago so the infiltrator should be still within a nine kilometre radius of Suna. Aside from the one kill, we don’t know what the attacker’s purpose or intent is.”

The Kazekage added as he sat back down. “Find the infiltrator.”

The ninja gave a quick nod of his head and bowed deeply. “Hai, Kazekage-sama.”

“Seiichi-taichou,” the Kazekage pinned the man with stern eyes. “The other factions are watching. When you find the infiltrator, do what you have to.”

III

Gaara couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wasn’t right.

There was an interruption in the usual cocktails of scents in the air, a foreign trail had been introduced into the mix.

After several unsuccessful attempts at sleeping, the genin leaped out of bed, grabbed his cloak and strapped on his gourd. Enough was enough. It was time for an investigative hunt. As soon as Gaara jumped out his window, he knew his hunch was right.

Squad teams were running all over the place, searching and tracking all the arcs of the village’s circumference. Then the genin spied two Hunter Nin perched on the outer wall, gazing down at the desert stretching before them. It only meant one thing. They had an infiltrator.

Restless and curious, Gaara stationed himself at his usual training patch outside of the village walls and crouched low.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Gaara suddenly released the sand from his gourd and into the ground, scattering the grains across the vast plain in every direction. One square metre held hundreds of chakra infused sand grains and within minutes there was enough covering the land that so much as a small trample from a rodent would alert Gaara of its presence. The grains were now a living extension of the jinchuuriki’s senses.

Ironically, despite his sudden heightened eagle-eye, Gaara completely missed the presence of a tracking squad behind him. And it seemed that they were also unaware of the jinchuuriki as well.

So it made sense that both parties suddenly drew out their weapons.

The ninja squad immediately dispatched an array of projectiles in a flurry of movements. Gaara in turn, jumped in lithe arcs and landed in a crouch a few metres away tense and ready to face the threat.

“Wait! Hold your weapons!” The order came from further behind as a man in his late twenties moved to the front.

The squad’s leader eyed the small figure and tilted his head. Not a moment later he signalled for the team to back away.

“Perhaps it’ll be more practical for you to remove your hood.” The leader suggested neutrally.  

It was then that Gaara belatedly realised that he was still donning his night cloak and that his recognisable features were hidden under the cowl. With deliberate slow movements the genin pushed back his hood and turned to fully face the opposing squad. There was a moment were every face in the five man squad flickered from surprise, realisation then concern when Gaara’s identity had been unhidden. A man at the back even stumbled a bit.

The genin eyed the familiar leader and finally asked, “Was there something you wanted…Seiichi-san?”

There was a flicker of genuine surprised but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

The man tilted his head again. “I apologize on behalf of my team for attacking you,” Captain Seiichi bowed lightly. “It was influenced by the current caution to threat.”

The squad waited in anticipation for Gaara’s response. He would either ignore it or reject it and they would hope for no more than that.

“Someone has died tonight.” It was a statement than a question. “Freshly spilled blood clings to you.” His eyes pinned Seiichi in place.

The captain’s head inclined ever so slightly in confirmation but he remained largely closed off. The two eyed each other till Gaara broke eye contact and turned his head.

“You’re tracking in the wrong direction.”

This definitely got a reaction from his current observers. A few frowns and narrowed eyes full of suspicion darted towards Gaara as he waited. Their taichou was once again not very reactive, he only seemed curious more than anything else.

“May I ask Gaara-sama,” He notice the boy’s nose scrunch up the tiniest fraction at the suffix. “What you’re doing so far away from the village?”

With a cool gaze the boy shifted his eyes to the horizon. By now, the yellow, reds and gold hues of the desert had turned to burnt purples and inky blues.

“The same as you.” He answered simply. “Hunting.”

The pause that followed swallowed the sound of the wind and muted the ambient rustle of dust, rocks and sand. But it left the imagination in the ninja squad’s mind to follow whatever wild and gory ideas to roam from such a loaded answer.

But the captain never let his gaze wander from the boy as a thought danced in his mind. The child was not how he remembered him. Something was amiss. After a moment, he realised it was the jinchuuriki’s gaze. The boy’s eyes used to reflect desolation, like the worst drought, like prolonged famine but now – it was a flood. They were a dew melon green, a pale liquid that was vicious in depth.

Maybe that was the reason why the pragmatic captain had a spontaneous moment of faith in the unknown and asked:

“East or west?”

Gaara blinked at the unexpected question, but after a few moments the boy shifted his eyes to the left.

“West.”

Not wanting to risk breaking this abnormal civil exchange of information with their jinchuuriki, the captain gave a bow and quickly shunshined away with his squadron.

Shifting the gourd on his back, Gaara crouched down and placed his palm flat on the sandy ground.

The most infinitesimal vibrations were translated from his chakra to his brain, mapping an inner world where everything was a massive hive of information, based on the movements of whatever creature touched his sand. It meant Gaara could track in real time. He could ‘see’ the squadron and their captain already a few kilometres to the east to where he sent them. He had not been truthful with the directions but it meant he had some time to find the infiltrator first.

He closed his eyes again and concentrated. A beat later he found him.

The stranger was running south-east of Gaara’s location. The distinct lightness of the footfalls and the tingling sensation of chakra hitting the ground reinforced that he was a shinobi.

Without a moment to lose, Gaara retracted his sand and bolted towards the intruder.  

III

It only took Gaara, seven minutes to find him.

Spying from behind a large boulder, the jinchuuriki couldn’t tell which village the shinobi came from. The man was discreet, wearing dark uniform and with half his face hidden beneath black fabric, he bled into the background.

It took less than a second for Gaara’s sand to snatch the infiltrator and string him up.

The intruder couldn’t comprehend how one moment he was sprinting on solid ground, then suddenly he was mid-air. Reducing the possibility of a fight, the genin wrapped his sand around both hands and feet, sufficiently immobilising the intruder.

Soon they were face to face.

“Why have you infiltrated my village?” Gaara asked quietly. His voice neither low nor high but held a steel edge to its tenor. “Who has sent you?”

The ninja remained stoically silent.  

Gaara pressed further. “It would be wise to answer.”

The sand suddenly tightened and the sound of his wrist breaking cut the silence between them. Gritting his teeth, the infiltrator turned his head away.

“The man you killed wasn’t your target was he?” the boy commented.

More silence and Gaara broke his other wrist.

“Collateral damage.” The ninja finally divulged while hissing in pain.

“Was the Kazekage your real target?”

No answer. The man groaned in pain as his toes bent backwards.

“You don’t look like an assassin.” Gaara commented lightly. “No, your job is something else.”

The jinchuuriki leaned forward and looked closely. The ninja couldn’t be more than a chūnin. How odd.

Despite his face being covered by a protective cloth, Gaara could make a hint of cocky smile underneath. “Why don’t you ask your _father_?” he snarled to mask the pain of his fingers breaking underneath Gaara’s sand.

Both the man’s thumbs snapped audibly and Gaara leaned back to stare at him in disinterest.

“Why ask him when I can ask you?”

The infiltrator shut his eyes as Gaara began to tighten the sand around his limbs further. The shinobi bit his lips from crying out, but it was futile as he heard another three of his fingers break under the pressure.

“I w-won’t tell you any-anything…” The man cried out rebelliously. “So you can go ahead and kill me!”

Gaara used his sand to levitate off the ground and bring himself to the captured shinobi’s eye level.

“Ninja-san,” Gaara lifted the man’s chin carefully, the gentleness of his hold contradicting the situation and explained, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I won’t kill you nor will I torture you any further.” He let go of the man’s chin. Confusion marred the shinobi’s face as the jinchuuriki gave him an almost kind expression. “I don’t enjoy this, your death isn’t necessary nor is it wanted, but you _will_ tell me what I want to know.”

There was a collapsed sort of silence that stretched between man and boy.

“Are you from Oto?” Gaara asked suddenly as he studied the man’s eyes.

Those dark pupils didn’t change. They remained tiredly defiant but Gaara saw enough to know there was no recognition when he mentioned Sound.

“You really don’t know anything do you?” Gaara finally deduced. “You’re just a dispensable pawn.”

“We’re all dispensable.” The ninja grounded out half-heartedly.  

Gaara shook his head. “Maybe, but even I know that what you are, is a sacrificial messenger.” He gave the man a hard stare. “Since your superiors found it unnecessary to give you any information to relay, I’m going to assume that you were just the mail man.” The ninja scowled at the boy’s wording. “And mail men always leave a gift behind, don’t they?”

The shinobi’s head was turned away from Gaara as much as he physically could and stayed silent. It didn’t matter. The shinobi would be interrogated when he was brought back to Suna.

Just as Gaara descended back to the ground, the infiltrator suddenly spat out a senbon from his mouth and aimed it at the genin. Gaara automatic sand defence shot up and shielded him before the senbon got close. The captured ninja sneered then opened his mouth to say something, when suddenly his throat sliced opened before Gaara could understand what happened.

Blood sprayed out from the man’s neck and saturated his dark uniform with a bleeding stain that continued to grow. Some renegade splatters dotted Gaara’s face as he watched the man hang limply from his sand, the ground beneath his corpse gradually staining red, drenching and soaking the gravel with hot liquid.

Gaara eyed the dead man with something akin to sadness and then turned his head to stare at the new guest.

“You followed me.”

The Captain was perched hawk-like on a stone formation a few metres away, one still extended after dealing the killing blow to the infiltrators neck. He remained where he was without any intention of moving closer as he stared at the jinchuuriki with impassive yet sharp eyes. The genin noted that the captain was alone and none of team mates were with him.

“A genin shouldn’t mislead and misinform his fellow ninja and superior.”

“It’s not misinforming when you’re already aware of the fact.”

 The older shinobi gave him a blunt look. “One has to wonder why you felt the need to lie in the first place.”

Gaara returned his stare with inquiring eyes. “The situation becomes doubly more curious when the Kazekage’s silencer is involved.”

And indeed that was the main reason why Gaara deceived the captain in the first place.

Loyal, straight-forward and incredibly solid in personality and character, the jounin Captain Seiichi was mainly used when the Kazekage wanted something done discreetly.

The remarkable thing about Captain Seiichi was his averageness.

He was not an assassin, he was not ANBU and the man was not spectacular in any overt way. Even in judgment the enigmatic captain remained neutral. It reflected in the way he had always treated the jinchuuriki with a dichotomous mixture of impartiality, dismissal but also intellectual caution. The man that Gaara focused his cool gaze on was dependable to whomever he placed his loyalty with. In fact, his devotion would be almost naïve if it were not for his razor-sharp intelligence.

After his immediate family and Baki-sensei, Seiichi-san had been his most assertive, discreet and dependable jounin during his reign as the Fifth Kazekage. He had been the same for Gaara’s father. 

It was also the reason he was garnering Gaara’s full suspicion. And it seemed the sentiment was returned.

With narrowed gaze that was aimed at the jinchuuriki with microscopic inspection, the captain regarded the boy with a kind of predatory suspicion and even a dash of curiosity. The genin knew the man would not speak so he inspected the corpse that he’d placed on the ground.

With a contemplative mutter, Gaara remarked, “Killing him was unnecessary.” He knew full well that was exactly what his father had ordered the captain to do.

“Better it be quick then slow.”  The captain remarked nonchalantly.

Gaara raised one eye-brow by the tiniest fraction.

“You assume I was going to kill him slow.” The genin left the body behind as he approached captain Seiichi and stopped when they were face to face. “I wasn’t going to kill him at all.”

When the loaded silence finally broke between them, the captain moved away from the genin and pressed down on the intercom attached to his neck.

“All units cease search. The infiltrator has been caught. Despatch the collectors south-east of sector 5.” When the man had finished giving out his orders, he gave a curious look in the genin’s direction. “I confess I was hoping you’d do it for me instead.” With a shrug reminiscent of Shikamaru, Captain Seiichi gave Gaara a level gaze. This time there was no hostility, just a thoughtful look when he analysed the boy. “I guess both of us didn’t get what we want tonight.”

III

When the night finally calmed and the search team had left, Gaara didn’t go back home. He couldn’t.

Standing on top of a pillar of sandstone, the genin stared blindly out into the open desert and felt something tickled his senses.

There was an abnormal pulse. A heartbeat that should not be there.

Gaara had assumed his unease had stemmed from the infiltrator running amuck in his village but he was wrong. After captain Seiichi had killed him, the genin felt reassured that the reason for his restlessness would disappear.

But it didn’t.

He could still feel it, a nudge in the back of his senses that demanded attention. It was a disruption that Gaara couldn’t ignore. Whoever it was, they hovered closely on the outskirts of Sunagakure but never made any aggressive moves.

His eyes saw nothing, but his senses said otherwise.

There was someone out there, someone staring right back.

And they felt vaguely familiar.  

It was time to find out.

Every time the genin moved closer, the presence moved further away. The stranger didn’t want confrontation. If not to attack then perhaps he was here to spy?

The presence was near gone now and Gaara couldn’t tell if he was west, east or south. Coming to a decision, the genin closed his right eye then channelled chakra into his sand and made a connection with his optic nerve.

 _“Daisan no Me_ ” Third Eye.

Gaara levitated the artificial eyeball and began to probe the horizon. It was an ideal instrument for spying.

Whoever this stranger was, didn’t want to be found and Gaara couldn’t see him despite that fact he could feel that the stranger was now close by. He still needed visual. Keeping his right eye shut and channelling a constant stream of chakra to his optic nerve, he concentrated on manoeuvring the eyeball from place to place. Now and then he’d spy an unnatural trudge in the sand but nothing else.

After twelve straight minutes of searching, Gaara saw him.

It was a movement in his peripheral vision, a dark solid body darting off to the side and then completely out of view. It looked like midnight wings for the briefest of moments.

Gaara had seen enough.

Surprised and suddenly very weary at the discovery, Gaara dispersed the eyeball and regained normal sight. He looked back at the inky horizon and imagined where the stranger was possibly roaming, darting from rock to rock.

Rubbing his right eye out of irritation and exhaustion, the genin decided to leave a message for his spy.

Gaara pulled out a cloud of sand and catapulted it out into the desert. On a random boulder somewhere far away, this hovering fleet of sand stuck itself to the surface of the rock and began to make shapes, slithering and twisting its body to create lines and strokes. Then the sand firmly set itself in place then hardened.

On this random boulder in the middle of nowhere, was a small message left for his spying stranger. A message Gaara hoped the stranger would not answer.

III

A knock came from the door at early dawn.

It was far too early for anyone to be disturbing Kankuro’s REM cycle but he grudgingly trudge downstairs.

“Hang on.” The genin griped as he tried to wipe the irritation out of his tired face. “Just a second…” When the door swung open the genin yawned. “…yes? Can I help you?” Kankuro mumbled.

There was a surly looking young man with a sling bag crossed over his shoulder standing at the front door. His sand turban covered his neck and forehead but it didn’t hide the tired look on his face.

“Mail.”  His voice droned tiredly.

Kankuro raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Are you serious? It’s six in the morning.”

The man shrugged like the genin’s words meant very little. “Look I’m just the delivery guy.”

Glaring at the man, Kankuro mumbled, “Why don’t you just send it through the pigeonhole from the head office? It goes through a security system; my family doesn’t take direct mail.”

The mail man blinked. “I work with the civilian sector for carrier mail, letters, scrolls, parcel deliveries’ and what not. This hasn’t anything to do with ninjas.”

“It’s pretty damn early, you’re stealing sleeping hours for god’s sake.” The puppeteer added while crossing his arms.

The mail man continued to wear a dry expression that conveyed no sympathy. “Well, it’d be better if you actually had a mailbox, that way I wouldn’t have to disturb you.” The man had the audacity to roll his eyes at the genin which irked Kankuro more.

“We don’t need a damn mailbox. Like I said, my family doesn’t accept mail without check-ups through the main office.” Kankuro growled with annoyance.

The mailman blinked like he was still half asleep.

“I was going to shove it under the door but then I got zapped.” The mailman lifted his middle finger and for a moment, Kankuro thought he was flipping the bird at him, until he saw that they were red and covered in black soot. “Don’t appreciate the burn kid.”

“Argh, whatever, just give me the damn letter.” Kankuro snapped then snatched the offending piece of mail and slammed the door in the mailman’s face.

When the ordeal was over and Kankuro had calmed down, he inspected the suddenly offensive letter. Standard white and no discernible symbol, the letter was simple and light. Kankuro flipped it over and found an unexpected word scrawled on the front in black ink.

_To: Sabaku no Gaara._

The puppeteer blinked then blinked again.

It was a letter for Gaara? Now if that wasn’t the last thing he had expected. He lifted the letter up to the light and tried to see through it, but he saw nothing. With a sudden itch in his fingers, the puppeteer tried to push away the urge to see its contents. After all, it wasn’t the norm for Gaara of all people to get mail, and through the civilian sector out of all things.

The genin decided to leave it on the main kitchen counter and hoped Gaara found it later.

He really did intend to leave it alone, but it was strange how all of the sudden the genin just couldn’t ignore the white envelope anymore. His eye kept gravitating towards the letter like a magnet stuck in an orbit. Even when Kankuro had already slipped into bed, he found it an almost impossible to fall back asleep, his previous drowsiness replaced by twitchy nerves and itching curiosity.

With a sudden irritated growl, the puppeteer threw off his blanket and went back down stairs to glare at the object.

He cursed his curiosity and picked it up with a great deal of hesitation and scrutinised the black inky words that spelt out his baby brother’s name. He waged an ethical war in his head. Eventually his sneaky shinobi side won over his conscious.

It was strange how fast the puppeteer found himself boiling water on the stove and waiting for the steam to rise.

Lifting the letter above the rising hot steam, Kankuro waited a few seconds till he was certain the sticky seal had weakened from the heat, then he carefully wedged a kunai under the loose corner of the opening and neatly slid the blade across the lid.

With a perfect slide, the letter opened without a single tear in sight.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he held in, Kankuro gingerly pulled out the folded piece of paper and read its content.

For a few moments, all he did was stare because his mind did not comprehend the words scrawled neatly on the parchment of paper. They were simple, uncomplicated and neat, words that had no meaning yet had a purpose in every stroke. It wasn’t a puzzle, it wasn’t a riddle and quite frankly it was simply blunt with no intentions of subtlety or double meaning. Yet the young genin didn’t understand it at all.

With a frown the puppeteer finally murmured, “What the hell is he up to?”

“Who’s up to what?” inquired the voice from behind.

Kankuro jumped around and quickly hid the letter behind his back and swiftly tucked the envelope under his sleeping shirt. Mustering forced calm to ease the pace of his heartbeat, the genin presented a normal façade.

“Temari, hey!” he beamed with unnecessary volume and vibrancy.

“Hey?” With an inquisitive frown she asked, “Why are you up so early? That’s not like you.”

“Oh, yeah couldn’t sleep, dreams ya know.” Kankuro replied with a casual shrug.

Temari raised an eyebrow. “They must be some exciting dreams to have you up by this hour.”

“Yeah I guess…” Kankuro frowned for a moment then scowled at his sister’s sly comment. “Wait – Not those kinds of dreams!”

The blond kunoichi just shoved him over and reached for a mug. “Seriously I don’t want to know. Pass me the tea would you.”

Temari frowned as she looked over to the stove to her brothers left and suddenly asked, “What’s with the pot of water?”

“Hhm?” he looked over to the stove and realised what she was asking. “Oh, just making some coffee.”

“We have a boiler for that.” Temari dipped her tea bag into the mug and pulled out a carton of milk.

With a shrug, he replied, “I felt like boiling water manually for once, it preserves the taste better.” Kankuro lied. “You should try it.”

Temari raised another eyebrow then shrugged. “Whatever, just don’t forget to turn off the gas.”

Once the genin was safely in his bedroom, he glared at the letter.

 _Kankuro, I have something I must ask of you._ The puppeteer sighed and glanced out the round portal of his room, his father’s words circling in his mind. Things just got complicated.

Later, at an unknown time, Kankuro placed the letter on the kitchen counter top for its owner to claim.

Later, at an unknown time, the letter was no longer on that counter top, disappearing with its owner. Yet its absence did not take his problem away.

III

Feeling a little absent-minded, Gaara strolled through the streets of Suna, allowing his feet to aimlessly push him forward.

The main roads were not necessarily crowded but during midday where the sun was at its highest and the heat was the most intense, very little people dwelled outside.

The jinchuuriki walked with a pale scarf wrapped around his head and neck, the loose silk reflecting the heat off his crown and obscuring his face. But his iconic gourd hung tightly on his back and was recognisable enough for the villagers still outside.

He needed to think. He needed to do more than just think. He needed answers, because if there was one downside of time traveling, it was just another chore that had to be sorted out. Only this time it will not end because it was a chore he had to _live_ in, breath in, and quite frankly roll-in-the-bloody-mud in, while never being able to take a shower to get rid of the sticky grime. And as time went by, Gaara began to feel the dirt, sand and stones sticking onto that drying mud, till it was dragged him under like quicksand.

A few apprehensive civilians skittered around him as he passed by, a couple of children blatantly stared at him with prying eyes that held either morbid, daring curiosity or just plain terror.

Gaara rubbed his dark-rimmed eyes. Sometimes, he felt like a naked leper.

With a loud sigh the scared the rice-seller, the jinchuuriki picked up a few apples from one of the stalls, placed a few coins on the counter and pretended he didn’t just notice the shopkeeper run back into his small house. The sound of crunching filled his ears as Gaara bit solidly into his apple and wondered if they were imported recently, he was sure Suna didn’t grow pomaceous fruit.

It was only in the corner of his eye did he see a familiar figure standing tall on one of the cubic structures of Suna, his arms crossed and his gaze strong. The Fourth Kazekage was blatantly staring right at Gaara from above.

And Gaara stared right back.

It must have been just a few seconds, but in that brief moment when father and son locked eyes, something tangible snapped between them. Soundless static.

His father’s gaze was always so strong, like steel and stone. Unwavering and immovable. They weren’t like his own, but it was close enough. In the end, Gaara’s less than stellar childhood had become something that defined him, eventually making him understand the immense severity of the world without clinging to the crippling, naïve sentiments that spun pretty illusions.

He didn’t know that there could be people with his eyes. That was until he met others like him: Naruto, Sasuke, Nagato, Obito, Kakashi and even Kimimaro.

Comrades in misery and neglect, it truly was a strange and backwards way to be connected to someone.

Now as he looked back in hindsight, Gaara wondered if his father was also alone in his own way.

III

The Fourth Kazekage watched his son’s green eyes staring back at him with an unidentifiable expression.

Amongst the few people in the streets and the large dirt road and monolithic buildings, Gaara looked tiny in comparison, with his small frame and deceptively thin wrists that could orchestrate an impressive display of carnage.

Premature yet far too advanced, Sabaku no Gaara was too much and too little at the same time, with no constant medium or stable centre.

His son shifted his entire body to face him, the boy’s thin neck craning up. With very little warning, Gaara pushed off the ground and catapulted himself gracefully over rooftops and balconies.

Not a moment later, the jinchuuriki was crouched lithely on the rails to the Kazekage’s left.

For a few minutes, neither son nor father moved from the respective places and stood in silence, pretending for the entire world that the other did not exist. It was Gaara who moved first.

The genin leaned on the rails with his arms pressed against the warm metal. “Kazekage-sama.”  

His father’s eyes shifted towards him only by a fraction and then replied, “Gaara.” Another strange moment passed and then the older ninja asked, “You’re having a late morning.”

“It’s noon now.” Gaara answered simply. After a few seconds of thinking, the boy finally decided to mention last night. “But last night was far more interesting.”

The Kazekage did not react, but they both knew what Gaara was implying by his statement. _Are you aware that I know?_

It wasn’t threatening and there was no inflection in his tone, but the Kazekage seemed to have a blasé kind of sharpness to his speech. “Was it now?” _Exactly what do you know?_

Gaara then replied, “Strange characters emerge with the night.” He continued looking at the round domes of sunburnt clay.

The Kazekage hummed in polite contemplation, but revealed no other sign that he knew what the genin was talking about. The Fourth had been informed about Gaara’s involvement in the night’s events and acknowledge that his son was indeed aware of more than he should. With his usual stern face and crossed arms, the Fourth let the familiar scents of his village waft around him as a warm breeze brushed by.

The Kazekage was a little caught off guard when Gaara decided to speak again.

“Suna is falling.”

Gaara looking right at him, his pale dew coloured eyes were solid and clear. The boy didn’t look away, he didn’t react when his father all but stabbed him with his eyes and his pupils narrowed at such a blunt statement, a statement that The Fourth knew to be to root of almost all his problems. He didn’t need his son to tell him that, although hearing it from Gaara was strange.

There was no judgment. Just certitude.

“Suna is not falling.” The older ninja counteracted.

His son turned back to look at the village, his eyes squinting at the gleam from the sun. “Everything falls at some point.”

The Fourth took a moment then answered.

“We all live in the cycle of birth, life and death Gaara.” The Kazekage commented, “But the village will never fall as long as there are people to remember it and uphold the values of our home.”

“Maybe,” the boy leaned on the rails and ignored the heat from the metal. “But when the last person to remember dies, then what? Our memories are as solid as smoke and just as changeable. Sometimes what we remember to be something can have an undesired effect.” He never shifted his eyes away from the village landscape as he continued to talk in a low quiet tone. “That is…if the values within the village are even correct in the first place.”

The Fourth was hard pressed not to frown, Gaara was not one to sprout philosophy and let alone on something like this.

“That’s a strange statement for you to make.”

Indeed it was, for Gaara was the epitome of distorted perception on value and morale. The boys mind had been morphed and mutated by the demon in more ways than one, in more ways than the Kazekage could help. And despite what had been shown in the past, it really did unsettle him to know that if the time came, where Gaara truly couldn’t comprehend loyalty and value even to himself, then he would have to kill his own son personally. Such responsibility was only ever fuelled by the fact that he was a Kage, always duty first, duty before family, duty before love or any other attachment. Duty, duty, duty…

“As I said, Suna will not fall.” The Kazekage savoured the heat of the sun on his skin and said with powerful calm, “I will not let it.” _Not even to you my son._

Gaara closed his eyes for a brief moment then glanced at his sire. “I know.” _And it will kill you, father._

For a moment The Fourth Kazekage held his son’s gaze and knew, without doubt, that Gaara really did understand.

With some amount of incredulity, the older shinobi knew that the jinchuuriki understood that he _had_ to do these things, based upon the binding responsibility he had to the village. That was the burden that came with power. A burden, for some unknown reason, seemed to be something his son could understand with undiluted clarity.

“I had hoped, a long time ago, that you would help me with this task.” The Kazekage moved away from the roof edge and turned around, his back facing away from Gaara and the village. “That hope had long since passed. You are now evidence of my greatest failure.” _I will have to bear with this alone._

With those last words, Gaara’s father walked back the way he had come, leaving his son gazing at his back in the blistering midday heat.

In that moment, Gaara thought that his father seemed more alone than him.

III

Dusk had fallen.

Midnight followed with a dim wash of silvery moonlight that made the sand glitter like a carpet of diamonds. The desert was more alive in the dark than it was in the sun.

Gaara perched himself a few kilometres from the village, his gourd strapped tightly to his back and his weapons sharpened and ready.

The jinchuuriki hoped for a nonviolent outcome. He knew it was a long shot that his guest would find his message. And if he did, that he would understand it or even care. And even then, it was unlikely that they would ever meet face to face.

But Gaara would not take the chance of _not_ doing something.

The young genin didn’t know how long he played the waiting game but it had to be close to two hours till something finally happened. Gaara remained perched as he waited, his body language as relaxed as he could make it while still balanced at the edge of fight and flight. Then an odd gust of wind rotated itself towards Gaara, the breeze felt warmer than the typical desert air, an unnatural channel that ran lightly past the boy’s face. 

It was within this unnatural wind that carried something towards Gaara, a small object riding on the breezes back.

Gaara snatched the floating object out of the air and stared down at the gift.

It was a leaf, glossy and deep emerald.

Not a moment later the presence double in intensity till the air itself felt thick and hot.

“Sabaku no Gaara,” The voice was deep, low and powerful, seemingly echoing from every direction. “Jinchuuriki number one.”

Gaara closed his eyes for a moment then turned around to find a dark silhouette of a man standing against the light of the moon.

“Uchiha Itachi,” Gaara searched out his sharingan eyes hovering in the air like blood fireflies. “Massacre prince.”

Then suddenly, his world tipped back and the sky dripped into a horrifying red.

.

.

. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:The Ages of the Sand Siblings:
> 
> Gaara – 11 years.  
> Kankuro – 12-13 years.   
> Temari – 14-15 years.
> 
> Your reviews spurned this chapter into existence, and for that I thank my readers with all the passion of a madman.
> 
> CADEL


	11. Chapter 11

 

A blaze, a shudder then complete silence, the next few seconds were nothing short of disorientating hell.

The landscape stilled, the clouds reversed and the wind decayed and dissipated till everything stopped in putrid suspension.

Disembodied red eyes hovered oppressively, filling his vision with a haunting wash of scarlet from an apocalyptic moon.

Gaara had heard about Tsukuyomi but he had never visioned himself within it, trapped beneath its power, like a caged insect in the hands of a sadistic child with a magnifying glass. No longer was he standing freely on his pillar of stone, instead the genin found his body under a debilitating paralysis, nailed to a slab of sandstone by his hands.

The pain from the impaled palms felt unsettlingly real, the blood dripping down his arms were not warm but cold instead.

The jinchuuriki inhaled to calm his heart and settle his mind. This will be a test of resolve from now on.

Itachi was suspended in the air, staring eye to eye with the genin. The missing-nin gave nothing away, as he directed a cool, calculating gaze towards the genin. So Gaara looked back in kind, determined to not yet say anything till Itachi deemed it appropriate to break their silence.

It felt like an age when the Uchiha finally decided to speak.

"You play a strange game jinchuuriki."

He didn't give Gaara time to respond. Lifting his hands to his mouth, Itachi blew out a blazing stream of fire.

The flamed licked and seared Gaara’s skin. His hair curled, his flesh blistered and all the genin could do was scream. But when he tried, no sound came out. It made the pain more unbearable. The heat ravaged him and surely his ribs must be exposed by now, the skin melted off, but when Gaara looked down, his body remained intact and whole. But the inferno continued to devour him. And through the gaps of pain and clarity, Gaara could see Itachi from beyond the corrosive fire and knew why this man had earned his fearsome moniker and reputation.

After what seemed like hours of mind altering agony, the fire dissipated into nothing, taking the pain along with it. But it still remained in his sense memory.

"What is your name?"

The boy swallowed thickly and forced his mind to forget about what he had just endured and answered, "You know who I am."

"Answer." Itachi's voice never rose.

After a moment, the boy complied. "Gaara of the Desert."

"And you know who  _I_  am." A statement, not a question.

"Yes." The boy answered again. The simple questions allowed the boy to focus his mind on something and gave his heart a chance to calm down.

"You shouldn't." Itachi’s voice was low and calm. The missing-nin's eyes turned around slowly as he stared at Gaara. There was something there that the boy could see in the man's countenance, some small trace of caution in his normally cool façade and Gaara knew exactly why. "You deliberately looked into my sharingan despite knowing I could use Tsukuyomi."

Gaara merely confirmed by not saying anything at all.

A long ninjato appeared in Itachi's hand and despite the blade being pointed downwards to the ground, there was a menacing feel to the glinting metal. Itachi was showing an uncharacteristically large amount of aggression. Gaara imagine he might have found some alarm in the way he caught the shinobi’s attention.

The genin decided to initiate the conversation this time.

"I'll admit I was surprised that you answered my call." Itachi said nothing on the matter and continued to hold the ninjato with unnerving calm. "I wasn’t sure if even  _I_  wanted you to answer. But someone of your calibre spying around my village was remarkably hard to ignore."

The high collared cloak covered most of Itachi's face but it only made the red eyes of his become doubly more expressive. "Your method of getting my attention was effective." It wasn't a compliment, not with that level of killing intent emitting like a dark cloud.

"As I said, a shinobi of your reputation is hard to ignore. Getting your attention would've been challenging, if I hadn’t known the chink in your armour." The genin's skin began to feel a little prickly, like the residual pain of the fire was still licking his skin. "I've got your attention but there was no guarantee that you would talk to me face to face and without violent confrontation. But I ensured that I would have both by using the one debilitating weakness that Uchiha Itachi could never ignore." Pale, dew green eyes gazed calmly into deep red. "Your brother."

Something unidentifiable pressed heavily onto his lungs and the air sizzled with acidic viscosity.

The Uchiha remained unchanged, like all the turbulence of the environment excluded him. He was the orchestrator – a god perched on a throne whilst pressing absently on the insect he decided would amuse him for the while and Itachi was aware that Gaara had gone with it willingly.

"You have my attention." Itachi added unnecessarily, the pressure suddenly lifting.

Gaara resisted the urge to gag as he engulfed air into his lungs. He ignored the blood running down from his impaled hands and recited the message stuck on some rock far away.

"' _The avenger grows strong like a green sapling…bent in all the wrong directions.'_ "

Gaara's message remained clear and direct. He knew Itachi would have understood immediately.

"I mean no offence Uchiha-san, but once again, I didn't know how to get your audience."

The older ninja came closer to the jinchuuriki and leaned in.

"As I had said, you're playing a strange game. A dangerous one."

From the beginning, Itachi had found that the Ichibi jinchuuriki to be a little _off_ – the way a straight screw was a little bent, only by the most miniscule margins but became glaringly obvious when it would not fit into its designated fissure. Whilst Itachi had always been a red leaf amongst the green, Gaara was a tree in the middle of the desert, only to be found as a deceptively alluring mirage. His appearance was completely shallow, revealing nothing of the truth underneath but Itachi knew something was amiss.

"You wish to talk?"

There was a small trickle of relief when the Uchiha seemed to be cooperating. "Why are you watching Suna?"

The Uchihas eyes had an assessing look then he answered. "I believe you already have some suspicions to the reasons why." Red pupils narrowed. "Though you shouldn't"

"My village is my home, you're a Leaf Nin with a notorious reputation and currently donning a uniform that I suspect isn't an ally of  _any_  village." Gaara answered quietly. "You also seem to know who I am even though we have never met."

Itachi didn't miss the way the boy had referred him as a  _leaf nin_  when it was obvious he had not been affiliated with Konoha for a long time. "You knew that I was watching  _you_."

"I suspected." Gaara confirmed. "Is that what your organization does Uchiha-san? Do you hunt jinchuuriki?"

Bold statement. And not at all wrong but Itachi was ready for it.

"Gaara-san, you seem to have an uncanny knack for saying things that you shouldn't know." The missing-nin's voice was conversational but with an undercurrent of steel. "How do you know of my brother?"

"I don't know much about him at all." Gaara answered and it was partially true.

The missing-nin drawled out in a hush voice, "I have been generous so I would appreciate if you could indulge me with an answer."

"I truly don't know your brother." Itachi watched the boy gaze off to think, his expression only the smallest bit softer. "But he is close to someone I hold dear to me, a precious friend." Itachi was suddenly on the end of a very heavy gaze. "You love your brother, without even knowing you I can see it, but there are people I care about just as much. You planted a seed in the boy's mind long ago but how can you be certain it will grow healthy? No tree is better than a diseased one at the risk of contaminating others."

"You speak strongly of things you  _supposedly_  don't know." Itachi responded in kind. "And the future is hard to predict, I do not claim to be omniscient."

He gave Gaara a curious look. _But are you?_

The Uchiha's suspicion had gradually escalated since he'd seen the message left for him by the strange boy with red hair.

And the Ichibi jinchuuriki was nothing like he was reportedly supposed to be. Temperamental, unstable with a carnal lust for death, the boy in front of him was almost mockingly the opposite.

"Release me from the Tsukuyomi." Gaara stared daringly into swirling red orbs.

A beat later, Itachi suddenly dropped Gaara from his suspension, the nails through his palms disappearing along with the blood. The genin landed on the dark sand with a soundless crunch and noticed that the sky was no longer red, the moon was its normal pearly silver and the world was perfectly in place. The genin couldn't even tell when Itachi had dropped the genjutsu.

Gaara's sand defence shot up to defend the sensitive curb of his neck from Itachi’s thrown kunai.

The Uchiha assessed the boy. "Your shield is quick, your demon protects you well."

The genin ignored Itachi's previous transgression and folded his arms whilst dropping the weapon to the ground. "It’s not the demon which protects me."

The two ninja assessed each other.

It was strange to notice that the Uchiha was far younger here than the twenty-something year old Gaara had remembered in his previous life. His age though did not subtract the very real danger the young man posed as a potential enemy, although Gaara was certain Itachi would not be if given the chance.

"We will not fight." A statement again. "It doesn't seem to hold much meaning now since our cards have been revealed. How should our transgression move from here Gaara-san?" Itachi asked in his usual polite drawl.

The jinchuuriki gave his answer bluntly. "Leave."

The shinobi in black and red didn't blink as he accepted the answer easily. "Very well." The missing-nin agreed amiably. "Although before I leave, I require an answer."

"You'll ask me directly instead of spying?" Gaara's voice was a touch amused.

The older shinobi looked to the side and off to the unknown east.

"I won't bother with the light dancing and subtle words. I'm aware you know what it is my organisation does." He turned back to look at him. "What will you do when the day comes when you’ll no longer be in possession of the demon you contain? Because you know that day  _will_ come." His voice was calm but full of foreboding.

Gaara answered him honestly. "I'll die."

He wrapped the older man with a cool expression that betrayed no hesitation. "But when that time comes, I hope not to meet you there Uchiha-san. I'm rather impartial to you."

Not a friend, not an ally but something that was ambiguous. It was a remarkable show of confidence. Was it naiveté? The Uchiha was not sure. Dangerous or not, Itachi decided that this jinchuuriki was more peculiar than he cared for.

"Then I will take my leave."

"Itachi-san." the child called out quietly.

The sharingan user stopped to listen.

"You still have time." The jinchuuriki and the missing-nin let the wind pass by them in a strange sort of stand still. "Your path cannot be set in stone."

The older shinobi shook his head.

"The wheels are turning and the motion is set. We all have our parts to play Gaara-san. I know mine. But I am no longer sure about you." Itachi stared off at the glittering expanse of midnight blue above and spoke with a steady timbre in his voice, "The sands are shifting. My time is nearly up."

Like an hourglass of grains, falling ever so slowly but surely into a chasm deep below, the fate of this young martyr was dripping towards the inevitable. Even Gaara knew that.

"Is there no other way?"

"Why do you care?" Itachi asked with genuine curiosity.

The boy didn't answer immediately, but when he did, he bowed his head ever so slightly.

"Unseen and unheard, only known by name and reputation, you are connected very closely to people I know." The jinchuuriki's gaze was a solid wall, full and viciously deep. "By extension Itachi-san, you are part of a wide network of bonds that bind us all. Enemy or ally, we are all connected."

The desert wind whispered and sand muttered, engulfing the two ninja in a strange ambiance. The words of the jinchuuriki delved deep into Itachi's skin and sent a strange shiver down his spine as the wind seemed to agree with his heavy words.

Itachi was almost nostalgic.

What a strange place to be reminded of trees when he was standing in the middle of a desert.

A small chuckle escaped from Itachi's lips, a strange almost melodic sound that was lost in the wind before anyone knew it was there.

"Had you not been marked by your village's stripes, I would have thought you to be of the leaf.” He turned away. “The greenest kind."

The Uchiha jumped up and stood on a lonely pillar of stone.

Gaara thought he looked every bit as the stories had described him.

"I thought you might be interested to know," He threw something towards Gaara and the boy caught it in his small hands. "The ninja you caught last night didn’t go without leaving a parting gift behind."

With that warning, he disappeared like a desert mirage and Gaara glanced down at the object in his hands.

Then he ran.

.

.

.

 

My digital painting for Itachi - homage to the great Lily.  
You can find it at Cadel-Kipp Deviantart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize for the shortness of the chapter. Think of this almost like a prologue to the next arc.
> 
> Thank you for reading. You guys are my muse.
> 
> CADEL


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

Gaara passed the outer ring of the village and catapulted himself as fast as he could.

The small capsule in his hand felt hot and heavy, he wanted to let go of it, but at the same time he didn’t want to leave it out of his sight. Strange ink seals wrapped along its body and the heat emanating from its core harshly contradicted the coldness of the jinchuuriki’s palm. Gaara had lived through enough war to understand that this small container was a scatter-type bomb that was good for ambushes and traps. All you had to do was leave it hidden in some niche and then it would detonate at a programed time.

But Suna had many wards that protected the village against bombs going off within its walls. It was near impossible to initiate such an inadequate display of terrorism without the seals going off like blazing alarms. So there had to be something special about it.

It had to be an explosive armament with a lethal twist.

Of course, Gaara had no idea what that was and he understood the ink scripture even less. It could all go to hell and he was currently the only who knew about the threat. But he didn’t even understand what the threat even was.

Not a moment after his dark contemplations, something caught Gaara’s attention.

There, above the dome of a civilian fabric store was a shinobi flailing around the edge of the rails. It was then that Gaara spied the blazing wall that sat on the roof attached to some chimneys. The entire part of the building had collapsed and was scorched black with soot and ash from the steady flames licking at the terracotta.

Gaara narrowed his eyes. It had begun.

The jinchuuriki leaped then landed silently next to the rails to inspect the situation closer. Despite the angry looking flames and ominous glow it casted, the fire itself was small. It was the explosion that seemed to cause the most damage to the building. It was easy enough to put out, snuffing and suffocating the flames under a thick blanket of sand.

It only took a few seconds for the fire to completely die away, leaving charred, sooted rubble in its wake.

Retracting his sand into his gourd, he turned expectantly to the chūnin on the roof who was now sitting on the floor in a graceless heap.

“Why didn’t you kill the flame earlier?” the genin asked with a small frown.

The ninja in question had not even looked at the jinchuuriki to his side. His expression was a strange hybrid of bafflement and catatonia.

The genin followed the shinobi’s gaze and finally spied dark and grotesquely charred bits of… _limbs?_ It was in bits and pieces, the lumpy mass of burnt flesh blending disturbingly into the scattered rubble – it’s only distinction from the debris was that it looked somewhat _sticky._

“M-my…my partner…” The ninja’s words were grated, as if he had no moisture left in his mouth. “I don’t understand, he was standing there with me and then…”

The man said no more and Gaara thought he was finally starting to understand.

He asked pointing towards the burnt remains, “That is your partner?” It was an obvious question but it seemed to get the older shinobi in a more organised state of mind.

“Y-yes.” The man’s words came out stressed and jilted.

“He was caught in the blaze?”

Whatever colour was in the man’s face drained away to bleach bone. “No.”

“No?” Gaara blinked at the answer then carefully approached the man as the older shinobi weakly got to his feet. “How did he die in the explosion?”

The shinobi shook his head with a horrified sort of realisation.

“He _was_ the explosion.”

A moment passed where neither spoke, the man’s words sinking heavily into Gaara’s mind.

Something delicate fell into place and Gaara found himself more than a little disturbed. He glanced back down at the ‘gift’ Itachi had generously given him and found that he no longer wished he understood.

“I see…” The boy whispered quietly to himself.

The chūnin beside him shook himself out of his stupor and blinked at the young genin beside him as if seeing him for the first time.

“ _S-Shukaku!”_ The ninja took a step back from Gaara then looked at the poor remains of his patrol partner and found himself in a position where he didn’t know which was worse.

The jinchuuriki blinked out of his thoughts and stared at the man.

“No,” he stated as if talking to a child. “I’m not.”

The boy turned back to look over the village with narrowed his eyes. There will be more, there has to be, but he didn’t know how to find them. The best course of action was to raise the alarms, but bringing more ninja into the scene seemed bad considering he just figured out how the bombs were carried.

The sound of rapid breathing began to puff to his side. The chūnin had suddenly collapsed to the ground.

His skin had turned an alarming shade of pink and there was an impressive amount of sweat rolling off his skin. He looked like someone who had been baking too long in the sun at the height of summer. The man was perspiring so much that the clay beneath had darken from the moisture. All his bodily reactions comically exaggerated.

“C-can’t breathe…” husked the older man. He grappled at his clothes like the very fabric was causing him extreme discomfort. “Its…it’s happening…”

The man look at the charred remains of his partner than his eyes passed over to the jinchuuriki.

The chūnin’s eyes all but skinned Gaara with his desperation then uttered, “… _help_.”

It was a request the boy, unfortunately, couldn’t oblige.

Not a moment later, a ball of fire belched forth from what used to be a man and burst into a torrent of heat, smoke and organic debris. Gaara perched himself far away on the building opposite and sent his sand over to suffocate the flames before they could do further damage.

What the jinchuuriki had just witnessed couldn’t be described. The notion itself was ridiculous, but the other ninja had all but _exploded._ Words like _hot_ , _messy_ and _violent_ seemed adequate enough to paint a picture, but whatever poetic description that was being fashioned in Gaara’s mind was quickly chased out by the sickening fact that the situation had become several times worse than Gaara had first imagined.

The bombs didn’t exist.

At least not in the traditional manner and Gaara knew now why the bomb-wards had not detected them.

It was because they were bombs at all. Not until they entered its intended vessel. The ninjas. They were becoming the human carriers of a highly volatile parasite.

The incident seemed to have aroused the attention of other shinobi in the area, all of them began scattering towards the building Gaara had been standing on. The genin on the other was racing towards the outskirts of the village but he heard the sound of another explosion and the distant yells and screams of his fellow ninja.

“What the hell’s going on?!” yelled a chūnin from the alleyway to his left.

“Someone put that out!”

“Hang on is that…that looks like a person?”

“I think I hear another one!”

“Get back up and alert the Kazekage!”

All around him, shinobi began to run to the outskirts of the city. Blooms of fire, erupting like flowers in the village skyline.

It was then that Gaara saw her.

It was female jounin collapsed on the small balcony of an apartment. Her skin was pink and pulsing as if there was a supernova ready to explode from the inside out. Already seeing it once, the genin knew she would soon become a rather spectacular firework.

But what really alerted Gaara’s attention was the small child peeking out the window of the very _same_ balcony, unaware that he and his family would be caught up in a fiery blaze.

The genin’s heart beat lodged itself in his throat. Gaara realised the entire area was a heavily populated civilian district, full of apartments and schools.

The situation became worse because the ninjas who had begun to collect in the one area were most likely carriers. The entire place was a hot zone. Whoever did this had viciously thought it through.

Gaara stopped and closed his eyes.

He knew he couldn’t let the carriers expire, not with so many people still sleeping in their beds. But they were fellow Suna shinobi.

A shuddering sigh escaped Gaara’s throat. He will protect the villagers…even if it meant killing them.

Suddenly, the several shinobi found themselves arrestingly surprised to see the demon child jump down and join the frenzy. They watched in abject horror as the boy held the collapsed woman on the balcony and snapped her neck clean and without hesitation. The crunching of her bones so much more audible than they expected.

Then they watched the jinchuuriki drop the body and move to the next one.

The demon orchestrated his sand to grab, wrap, hold and crush – rapidly picking a choosing ninja after ninja with intense calculation. Then he would move on.

Gaara ignored the people around him and looked for all the ninjas showing signs of infection.

It was with a heavy heart that he tore into them, sometimes he wasn’t fast enough and an inferno would erupt from within. The only upside to his force massacre was that it was terrifying everyone else out of the civilian sector. The less people, the better.

So with a heavy heart and steeled resolve, Gaara continued to rip into the very people he was supposed to protect.

.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Your support has reduced me into a writhing mess of nerves.
> 
> CADEL


	13. Chapter 13

 

Swarming and suffocating, the jinchuuriki was surrounded by shinobi of every rank.

They crawled and stalked with weary caution, their blades still and ready. Some ran in fear, while others stayed by some miraculous bout of bravery, but none were delusional enough to believe they could fight off the demon vessel. The Jinchuuriki paid very little attention to the few squadrons scrambled around him in a defensive barrier. Their blades were the least of his problems as his sand deflected their flying projectiles in a rapid dance of pale gold.

They did not notice that his eyes were the only thing that moved. Searching and calculating.

The shinobi still brave enough to linger watched as the demon vessel snap his head towards the left, then watched as the infamous sand shoot at lightning speed and crush the shinobi that had been crouched on the roof not too far away.

It only took three seconds, and then the body dripped away through the sand and to the ground. Their fellow comrade was gone.

Then they watched it repeated all over again.

III

“Kankuro, get up!”

The puppeteer collapsed out of bed but quickly straightened himself when he noticed the stilted tone in his sister’s voice. “Wha – What’s happening?”

“It’s Gaara!” She gritted out while throwing her brother’s pouch of shuriken at him. He caught his weapons with ease as he pushed away the last dredges of sleep from his body.

“What?” he drawled.

The blonde kunoichi eyes shifted to the window outside and answered, “He’s lost it again. Come on, we’ve have to go!”

Kankuro shook the sleep from his limbs and asked with some annoyance, “Whose he killed now?”

“ _Everyone!_ Now get up!” She hissed.

Kankuro gave her a blink then strapped his puppet to his back then followed his sister. It was when they got outside that the genin realised that the atmosphere was buzzing with mania. There were ninja nearly everywhere, silently prowling through the thin streets and gliding over the roof tops. There was also the bitter stench of ash and smoke permeating the atmosphere.

He also noted a most ugly scent had been mixed in the air. It was the revolting perfume of scorched flesh.

“What the hell is going on? Why are there so many ninjas outside?”                      

Temari looked at the scrambling shinobi, scattering about in frenzy and replied, “There’s been an attack on Suna.”

The genin whipped his head around to his sister. “What?!”

“I don’t really know much except a few building had been on fire in the east sector. So far we’ve been lucky since none of the civilians have been caught up in the blazes.” Temari leaped onto another balcony. “But that might not last much longer.”

“How did this happen.” Kankuro clenched his fist as he passed by a unit of shinobi’s performing a water jutsu.

“There were a few explosions earlier.”

“Bombs? Don’t we have seals for that?”

“Well, it seems the wards aren’t doing their job.” Temari grounded out.

The bitterness is the air filled Kankuro’s nose as he ran. “Do we know who’s responsible, do we know which village?”

Temari shook her head.

“And what does Gaara have to do with all this?” Kankuro asked, not really wanting to know. “Why weren’t we told sooner? The patrols are supposed to notify everyone immediately!”

“They’re dead.”

Kankuro almost halted mid-air at her blunt statement.

“Who’s dead?”

Temari’s eyes stared ahead, her face was calm but her eyes were worried.  “The ninja’s on patrol,” They bolted past a shop with the sign covered in dripping crimson, its grotesque splatters reeked of salt and iron.  “They’re dead.” She repeated.  “He’s killed them all.”

When the two siblings rounded another corner they were met with their teacher.

“Baki-sensei!” Temari called out as they all landed together on the one dome.

“Temari. Kankuro.” He greeted simply.

“Have we found a way to control the situation yet?” Temari asked her teacher.

“How about the bastards who did this?” the boy growled.

Baki shook his head and replied, “No, so far we’ve had explosions but no discernible source.”

“Seriously?” Kankuro agitatedly added.

“There are multiple units looking as we speak so there’s still a chance we’ll find something.”

Temari’s frowned deepened, making her youthful features seem older. “Most explosive leaves evidence behind, residual liquids or materials expelled from the source of the explosion. There can’t be nothing left to analyse.” 

Her sensei sighed and looked towards the village which was beginning to glow with an eerie fire light.

In a different situation, it might have look beautiful, but it only made the shadows look garish and mutilated.

“We’ve found no traces of chemical or metal traces that are usually left behind after the detonation. If there were any left behind, it would help us piece together what the explosive are made out of and where to find them.” It was sounded more grim ask he spoke. “But so far nothing.”

“What the hell is evening happening?” Kankuro bit out.

Their jounin sensei hesitated then added, “…it’s hard to understand anything without all the information.”

“How about the situation with Gaara?”

“I’ve been informed that he’s in the outer ring, near the walls. He started killing about ten minutes ago. ”

Kankuro clicked his tongue.

Hot air rumbled and slammed into them in a torrent of heat and debris. All three looked to their right and saw a building catch on fire, a halo of red and yellow illuminating the structure. A few windows had been shattered and smoke billowed forth from the stucco above.

“Isn’t that an apartment complex?” Temari asked as she moved in closer.

After a moment Kankuro added with some alarm, “There are people inside!”

Without another word the blonde kunoichi snapped her fan open and then gave one large sweep, effectively clearing out the smoke. Now that his path was cleared, Kankuro jumped into the structure without breathing in the rancid smoke and began his search in the damaged section of the building. The rest of the dwellers were being herded outside by Baki but there were still a few people left in the hot zone. A man, woman and their daughter was luckily the only people that needed to be rescued.

“Are we in the clear?” Temari asked snapping her fan closed.

“You have to help me, please! Please!” someone wailed from behind.

“Apparently not.” The kunoichi mumbled.

A young man was on his knees while another restrained him from going back inside the building. “Oi, don’t go back in there you idiot!”

“No, no, no! Sumi’s still in there!” he wailed tugging away from the other man. “Let go of me! She’s still in there!”

Baki nodded. “Where?”

“Up there on the top floor!” The man answered pointing to the most damaged part of the apartment complex.

Kankuro frowned then answered honestly. “Well shit.” The boy grinded his teeth, “I don’t think we can get through man.”

“Why not!?” the man wailed desperately.

“Look,” the genin pointed to the roof. “It’s the most damaged part of the complex, almost directly underneath ground zero. Even I can tell from here that the roof is about to – “

A loud crash, a plume of smoke then raining debris followed.

“…collapse.”

The man next to them seemed to stare horrifically up at the now collapse top floor, a silence raining down on all of them. Another civilian put a hand on the poor man’s shoulder in some semblance of comfort.

Baki turned to the man and bowed, “We’re sorry, we couldn’t -”

“No! She’s still in there!” the man wailed this time grabbing onto Temari with shaking hands. “She sleeps in the back room further inside… she’s there, I know it!” his crying was now borderline obnoxious as he pleaded to the three shinobi. “Please save my Sumi!”

The young man shook his head then suddenly let go of Temari’s arm then bolted towards the building himself.

“Hey! Come back here!” Kankuro jumped in front of the man before he went further and pushed him to the ground with one sweep. “Don’t be stupid.”

The young man was still struggling underneath Kankuro till the genin let him go in snivelling miserable state.

Kankuro looked at the man then back at the building with air of extreme exasperation. Then he gave a dejected sigh.

 _“Fine.”_ The boy gritted out with extreme distaste for what he was about to do.

The crying man snapped his head towards the younger boy and widened his eyes.

“But the moment I know that I can’t go further, I’m not even going to try to penetrate that part of the building. Dead or alive. Got it?”

Before Temari could stop him, Kankuro carefully leaped up into the apartment complex and began searching. The genin coughed his way through the smoke, his throat scratchy and thick. Thankfully he could feel a rush of wind powered by his sister’s fan clearing some of his way from down below and continued towards the back. The walls were still hot and the ground felt like it would collapse at any moment. When Kankuro could no longer move forward due to collapse rubble, he tried to slip through a small gap in the wall of stucco but stopped when he heard the roof showing signs of collapse.

With a curse he retreated before he antagonised the building further.

It was as he was turning around to leave that he heard it, a sound like whimpering and shuffling, it was too organic to be dismissed as anything else but alive.

The genin pushed a bit of chakra into his ears then closed his eyes to listen. It took him a few seconds to get a rough idea of where the sound originated from but still left him the problem that he couldn’t physically go any further into the collapsed building.

“Come on Crow, time to shine.” Kankuro unbound the puppet from his back.

The operation took a tedious six minutes and a lot of coughing but Crow came back with Sumi within its body.

Kankuro opened the belly of his puppet to inspect if anything was still alive in there, only to gape at his discovery.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Temari adorned a heavy scowl as she waited for her brother to emerge from the smoke and rubble – that was _if_ he did at all. She let a bit of the tension in her shoulders go when she saw Kankuro jump out of the building just as another section of the roof collapsed. The boy landed and rolled into a crouch whilst bits of clay and debris rained down on his head. He cursed then stood up with his puppet standing faithfully by his side.

“Do you have her? Please tell me you have her!” the civilian man cried as he ran to the genin.

Temari couldn’t see anyone else with her brother; no other body had been carried down except his own.

Just as the civilian was closing in she watched as her brother growl at the man, “Oh, you have some nerve.” There was a furious scowl on his face which was more menacing then the one on his puppet. She watched her brother pull the man by the front of his shirt and scowled into his face, “Next time remember to give more accurate details you little piece of sh –”

“Kankuro!” his sister warned before he could go any further.

With a quick flick, the puppet opened and Kankuro pulled out a small body from the belly of Crow.

“Here’s your mutt.” Kankuro threw the creature at its owner.

The man ignored the genin’s ire and rejoiced at the reunion. Temari scoffed and shook her head at her annoyed brother. 

“I almost got killed for a fucking _dog_.”

Their sensei joined a few moments later and gazed at the building with a frown.

“That’s the first explosion we’ve had this close to the centre of the village.” Baki commented grimly. “All the rest have been on the outskirts.”

Temari frowned. “This is the only one not in the outer ring to detonate?”

Baki looked at his student then back at the village scape. “Yes, so far, it’s our only outlier.”

“Does this mean the attack progressing to the centre of the village?” Kankuro asked.

“Let’s hope this is the only deviant.”

Temari watched the towers of lofty smoke rising sporadically over Suna. The kunoichi frowned, trying to make sense of the pattern within the chaos, she could see it…but she couldn’t quite grasp it. Her sensei however suddenly stood up from his crouch the turned his eyes towards the plumes of smoke in the sky.

“What is it sensei?” Temari frowned.

Just as she finished speaking a large arc of sand whipped into the sky and twisted its way back down.

“That’s Gaara isn’t it?” Kankuro said grimly.

It was far away but they could spy a small figure standing immobile while gold whips lashed sporadically. A loose circle of shinobi had formed around the central figure of the massacre, no one engaging but trying to maintain some sort of barrier with their bodies.

Kankuro crouched on an adjacent roof top and narrowed his eyes as he scanned the horizon.

“What is it?” Temari finally asked, her body already turning away to take flight again.

“It’s gotten quiet.”

The blonde replied bluntly, “We’re in a middle of an attack. What about all this seems quiet to you?”

The boy frowned at her. “The explosions have stopped.” The puppeteer looked back at the hellish scape of the village.

All three listened and watched and indeed there was a hollow silence in the air.

“You think it’s over?”

“I don’t think so, the hits seem sporadic so far. They’ll start up again.” She answered bitterly then jumped up to begin running again.

“Hey wait!” Kankuro yelled out, “Gaara’s that way, why are we moving in the opposite direction?”

“I don’t think we should be moving closer to our insane baby brother right now.” She answered as if it was the most obvious thing. “We’re going to find father. So far everyone else is trying to either move civilians out of the massacre perimeter or control the fire damage. We’re not needed there at the moment.”

“Oh…I thought…” Kankuro let his voice trail off as he looked back at the chaos behind him.

“What?” Temari asked impatiently, not finding her brother’s indirectness all that helpful.

The puppeteer paused for a moment them gave a shrug. “I thought we should go to Gaara first.”

The young kunoichi gave Kankuro a strange look. “Why the hell would we do that for?”

Her brother glanced away and gave a flippant huff.

“Forget it.” The genin brushed away.

Temari chose to ignore the odd expression that flittered across her brother’s face.

III

When Baki and his team arrived at the Kage dome, they were met with a cool faced jounin captain instead of the Kazekage.

“Captain Seiichi.” Baki asked landing next to the other man. “Where is Lord Kazekage?”

“The Kazekage had left to deal with the jinchuuriki only a moment ago. He asked me to tell you that your intel is to be passed on to me while he is absent.”

The jounin nodded and replayed the collected data from his recon.

“My team had just left a burning apartment complex only a few kilometres from here. There’s a possibility the threat is spreading further into the village.”

“Which sections have taken the most damage?” The captain asked as he clasped his hands behind his back.

Baki replied, “The entire outer ring has been under fire from the beginning and a total seven buildings were damaged in the attack, however, most have been put out immediately. The entire eighty degree arc of homes along the outer wall west of us, have been the most effected.”

“Eighty out of a three-sixty degree village is not good... but not bad either.” Seiichi muttered. “Only the west?”

“No, the north and east are burning as well but manageable enough that there’s only about two units needed to contain and the area.”

“How about the south?” the young kunoichi suddenly asked not even looking at two superiors.

Both jounin turned to her then glanced over the sprawling scape of stucco domes southwards. There was barely even a blaze in sight. However it was far from peaceful.

Baki decided to answer. “The south is the only section that has next to no explosive activity.” The man paused then continued. “However, that part of the outer ring is currently being terrorized by Gaara as we speak.”

Temari’s eyes narrowed at the piece of information, her analytical mind was racing away, trying to pick apart the puzzle before her.

“Is that so?” Captain Seiichi hummed.

There was silence that had covered the village left an unnerving taste in the back of Temari’s throat. No one believed it would be permanent.

“Alright,” Baki suddenly announced. “My team will be helping the few sections in the civilian sector that have been affected by the attack.”

Temari nodded and poised to jump when she suddenly realised something glaringly obvious.

“Where the hell is Kankuro?”

III

“Pull your men back!”

It had been three minutes since the last explosion and an eerie silence had blanketed the village.

“Don’t get too close!” warned a jounin flanking the left of the boy on the roof.

Several shinobi were crouching a fair distance away from Gaara who had perched himself on the roof of a local civilian school. He didn’t move but his sand shifted and swayed in undulating waves around his body, the sand stained deep crimson and the smell of iron radiated off the grains.

The bodies of their dead comrades were only recognisable by pools of red.

It was within this lull, a lone jounin who had been hidden in the child’s blind spot edged closer to the jinchuuriki.

He just might be able to take the demon vessel by surprise.  Unfortunately, it was premature thought. He got three steps closer than froze when a pair of pale eyes snapped in his direction. His comrades could only watch as Gaara’s sand curled around the ninja, then tossed him over the roof to some far off distance like the jinchuuriki was skipping stones.

Then he turned away.

III

Kankuro was a few blocks away when a man fell down from the sky.

_“What the hell?!”_

The genin peered closer at the shinobi now rolling onto his back. Surprisingly, he was alive.

The ninja just groaned.

“Raining nin,” Kankuro mumbled as he crouched down. “World’s going down the shit hole.”

The man should have been obliterated at impact but he just seemed a little shocked and bruised.

Kankuro suddenly noticed a soft bed of sand underneath the man. It smelt of rust and salt. He crouched nearer, ignoring the man entirely. There was no doubt the sand had cushioned his fall.

From the blood stains in the grains, he knew who it belonged to.

With a heavy frown Kankuro pushed forward to find his younger brother.

III

The Kazekage arrived in a flurry of sand and wind.

His imposing figure loomed above as he overlooked his soldiers surrounding their misbegotten jinchuuriki.

“How long has he been stationary?”

A chūnin with cropped hair answered, “A few minutes Kazekage-sama, he hasn’t moved since his last attack.” 

If Gaara noticed his arrival, he did not turn his way. The child remained gazing off to some place far away, seeing something no one else could see. The sand danced around his body in soft movements, only just brushing gently against the stucco, the movements ironically demure and placid.

The village leader stepped forward and extended his hand. It was all distastefully familiar.

The Kazekage didn’t need to speak, the area cleared instantly without a word. There was no fanfare, no speech, no pleads or warnings. He had done that years ago and they always fell on deaf ears. He will end this quickly and relatively cleanly if possible. A cloud of glittering gold spun out in a graceful wave. Then with a deceptively small movement of his wrist, it lashed out in a lethal arc towards the lone boy standing on the roof.

As expected, the pale sand met gold in an explosivly. Gaara’s eyes shifted towards his father, giving him his full attention.

Then his son did something the Kazekage did not expect.

He retreated.

Tightening the sand around him, the jinchuuriki leaped back and crouched down on another stucco dome much further away. His sand did not lash out in retaliation. It just hovered in sweeping meanders around his small frame, a little agitated but clearly on the defence.

After a moment of silence, the Kazekage executed a second round of attacks. Gold dust twisted and barraged against the wall of sand that his son put up.

Gold was heavier and denser then silica, eventually the wall always broke.

When the Kazekage’s gold breached the boy’s defences, he was met with another reinforced wall of hard sand. With a twitch of his fingers, the older shinobi spun looping curtains of gold around the boy and began to pelt the genin’s cacoon from all directions.

The Kazekage was relentless.

Then Gaara finally attacked.

The jinchuriki slid his sand from beneath his feet and shot a heavy line towards his father.

It was a weak attack but it was meant as a distraction while Gaara broke away from the man’s gold barrage and retreated even further.

The crease on the Kazekage’s brow deepened.

The boy was running. 

The whole fight was becoming increasingly bizarre. Despite all the killing, Ichibi’s presence had never appeared. Not once. That was the one distinction that made the massacre different to all the others that came before it. The detail had not slipped the Kazekage’s attention.

It was exactly that one little detail that made the man cease his attacks and stand a few metres away from his son.

He eyes narrowed, assessing his son’s face.

Small speckles of sweat sprinkled the genin’s forehead and the bridge of his nose. His breath was laboured. Gaara was distracted, his pale eyes kept moving away from him, flicking towards the horizon far away.

The village leader noted with some curiosity that Gaara could barely stop the torrent of gold from pelting him when his father attacked again.

“Wait, fath-” he gasped. The Kazekage didn’t hear him.

The genin raised his hand towards The Fourth but it was only seen as an attack and the gold dust only became heavier.

It was the most one-sided battle anyone had ever seen between the Kazekage and the jinchuuriki.

Both ninjas were a crazy powerhouse of chakra and raw skills. When they battled, Gaara was a near equal match for his father. It was his lack of sanity that made him most dangerous but it was also the same thing that made the Kazekage win every time. But as they watched, for reasons unknown, the jinchuuriki was barely managing to deflect and dodge his father’s attack. The Kazekage slammed relentlessly into Gaara’s sand which barely held up against the heavy attacks.

Eventually it was Gaara’s unexpected use of a replacement jutsu that allowed him to escape the Kazekage’s barrages of attacks. He rolled away and landed even further away from the village leader.

His small hands were shaking and his chest heaved with deep pants.

There was something wrong with their jinchuuriki.

Before anything could move forward, a blast erupted from the left, washing them in hot air and bitter smoke. When the Kazekage’s attention went back to Gaara, he found the boy was already moving away.

Gaara met his gaze. His voice was so soft that the Kazekage wondered if it was meant to be heard at all.

“I’m sorry father.”

A brief stillness seized the Kazekage’s body. His surprise was quickly overshadowed by Gaara’s sudden leap in the opposite direction which was followed by an explosion faraway.

“Stay back!” The Kazekage ordered when his ANBU tensed for a battle with the demon child. “The explosions had begun again. Half of you go and contain the collateral damage. The other half stays with me but do _not_ interfere.”

The soldiers obediently watched as their leader ran to pursue their jinchuuriki.

III

Kankuro dodged and flipped backwards only to be bombarded with debris from behind.

Damn, it was starting again.

It was only a moment later that he was startled into looking up and found Gaara leaping overhead.

He was stunned for a moment but the puppeteer leaped into action and followed his brother. When he rounded the corner, the genin quickly hid behind a stucco wall to watch his brother.

Kankuro grimaced as he watched an explosion of red spew forth from what used to be a man. The poor bastard couldn’t even scream.

Not for the first time Kankuro wondered what the hell he was even doing there. Damn it. If it wasn’t for his father’s orders, he would have stayed with Tamari and Baki-Sensei. This was above his pay grade.

The entire place was near empty since Gaara’s arrival.

Except for one kunoichi.

She was sitting on the ground, her back pressed against a wall, injured and barely conscious. She was not getting up anytime soon.

Gaara’s eyes had found her. Kankuro’s gut sank.

The puppeteer looked at the kunoichi and then back at Gaara crouching on a balcony not too far away. His eyes zoomed in on the woman like a hawk ready to strike.

She was only a few metres away. He could…he could try get to her…maybe he could grab her and run.

It sounded poor even in his own mind. He knew he would do no such thing. Kankuro was far too self-preserving to be a martyr.

He was a ninja. Not a hero.

The kunoichi coughed and wheezed then her eyes caught sight of her soon-to-be killer. The genin didn’t need to see the suffocating fear in those unknown orbs to know that it was there. If only she didn’t turn to look at Kankuro at that moment. But she did. And all Kankuro could do was curse.

He was a ninja, not a hero.

Damn it all to hell.

Kankuro bolted from his hiding spot and bee-lined straight for the woman. He could see Gaara’s sand was already on a trajectory course towards them and all the puppeteer could do was crushing the overwhelming instinct to run away. He grabbed the woman and rolled out of the way just as the sand crashed into the wall, spraying in explosive waves.

“Get on your feet!” he barked out as soon as they were away from the sand.

The kunoichi wasn’t responsive which irked the genin but he didn’t let go of her till he hid himself around the corner.

“ _Get up!_ I can’t carry you to safety ya useless woman!” his voice was now more panicked than concerned. There was something seriously wrong with the kunoichi, she was burning up and sweating from every pore. It was so bad that it was making Kankuro’s clothes wet.

Another torrent of sand curtained over his head and began to descend onto him. Kankuro’s eyes widened as his field of vision began to bleed away and all that he could see was pale sand. It never wanted to shut his eyes, but that was exactly what he did.

Then he waited.

When the next few seconds passed in silence, Kankuro dared to open his eyes.

And all he saw was glittering gold dust.

Spearing from the side, the Kazekage pushed Gaara’s attack away and began to demand the boy’s attention away from Kankuro. The puppeteer didn’t need any more prompting and ran as fast as his legs could carry him with the extra weight on his back.

The Kazekage continued to hold Gaara under a constant fire of attacks. Sand and gold twisting and moulding into one violent dance.

The young jinchuuriki continued to dodge around the Kazekage’s attacks but the older man wasn’t a fool. Gaara’s attention was only half in the fight. The boy’s eyes kept drifting away, following towards the direction his older brother had run off to.

The leader’s jaws clenched. He would make the boy focus on the true danger at hand.

ANBU and jounin alike surrounded the boy in a loose circle and supported the leader’s constant barrage of attacks. The jinchuuriki’s reactions were sluggish and weak; his body struggling to cope with the attacks and his face openly feverish and ill. Whatever was happening to their jinchuuriki was bad enough that a few shuriken and kunai thrown his way actually managed to get through his defensive wall and hit his body.

With a last explosive push, the Kazekage threw a spear of hard gold and drove into the sand wall. It obliterated the shield.

And speared right through his son’s body.

It took nearly three seconds for everyone in the vicinity to register the golden spear skewering thorough Gaara’s abdomen. Even the Kazekage couldn’t seem to comprehend what had occurred. His attack was never meant to reach his son. Gaara’s defence was always too strong, the throw would have never been lethal.

The jinchuuriki stumbled back and looked down at his stomach, dazed and choked. The Kazekage refrained from physically flinching when his son met his eye.

Then the Gaara dripped away into and puddle of harmless sand.

“It’s a clone!” someone shouted from the back.

Immediately, multiple eyes darted rapidly looking for the real jinchuuriki only to find the boy leaping away in the other direction.

III

Kankuro didn’t stop running till he nearly tripped over by the side of the road.

When the genin turned to look back, he was relieved to see no one had followed him.

The fear-induced adrenalin had worn off and he was starting to really feel the weight of the other body on his shoulders. He pushed the ill kunoichi down and propped her on the side of the street. She was half lucid and looked impossibly worse than before.

Suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

He pushed down the urge to snap bone.

The kunoichi’s eyes were still closed, her shoulders slumped and her skin impossibly hot. Kankuro was no medic but he knew there was something dangerously wrong with her. No one should be that shade of pulp red.

She moved her lips. Kankuro moved in closer.

“I can’t hear you.”

The woman wheezed and choked miserably.

“C-can’t breathe.” Her voice was a husky sound that almost sounded human.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Kankuro felt a bit of panic setting in. “Look, I can get you to the hospital, just hold on.”

The boy’s brow furrowed in frustration when she began to shake her head.

“What is it?”

“N-no, no, no.”

Before he could understand what the blasted woman was rambling on about, he reached into his pouch and deflected a kunai shot his way. Kankuro turned around braced himself to be attacked again.

When he looked up, he saw his brother.

“Gaara.” A heavy feeling began to sink in his gut.  

Why was his brother here? Where was father?

The boy in question leaped down from the opposite building and shot another shuriken toward him. Kankuro barely manage to deflect it and the weapon managed to pierce the kunoichi in the shoulder. She didn’t even scream, just huffed and wheezed as she strangled oxygen into her lungs.

He turned to look back at his younger brother and found himself wedged between Gaara and a damn wall.

“Kankuro, move.”

The puppeteer shuffled back, his knuckles were bone white from clutching his kunai too tight.

Maybe in a different circumstance he would have been surprised to find that Gaara had addressed him by his name for the first time in many years. But of course his mind was preoccupied by other details.

“It’s not safe, move.” Gaara instructed in a quiet but firm command.  

Kankuro nearly laughed. Of course he knew it wasn’t safe. This whole damn village wasn’t safe. Perhaps the adrenalin was getting to his head because he suddenly felt recklessly brash.

“Stay away!” His fingers shook much to his disgust. “Damn it!” He cursed. He ignored the woman wheezing next behind him. “Damn it all to hell!” Now he was just yelling at himself.

“Kankuro!”

Gaara’s sudden bark managed to grab Kankuro’s frayed attention but only for a moment because the kunoichi grabbed onto Kankuro sleeve and tugged weakly. Her skin was now red and glowing.

_Glowing?_

The puppeteer pulled his arm away from the woman as he watched in horror as she literally began to smoke from her skin, whatever moisture in her body was evaporating into steam.

The genin gaped with horror struck fascination. “ _What the –?”_

Then she began to rip at the seams.  

Suddenly Gaara was moving.

He pulled Kankuro towards him while wedging himself between his older brother and the woman. Kankuro felt his younger brother press his body close then commanded his sand to shield them in a hardened cocoon. However the sand didn’t come up fast enough for Kankuro to miss seeing the kunoichi burst into a ball of flame and organic debris.

Even within the dark womb of Gaara’s shield, Kankuro could feel the heat of the explosion seep through the sand and the ground shaking with shuddering tremors.

He was right. The world really was going down the shit hole.

Two brothers stood together in their cocoon and waited for the violence outside to calm. After several long seconds, the sand receded, revealing a scorched crater and burnt buildings caught in the blast radius. The only part left untouched was the small patch of hard dirt Kankuro and Gaara were standing on.

There were no traces of the woman left anywhere. Or more accurately, she was simply _everywhere._

The uncomfortable feeling of sand brushing against his ankles broke Kankuro out of his stupor.

Gaara was shaking.

He had rivets of sweat trailing down his temples and his breathing sounded like rattling pebbles. Pained and dry. He was barely even looking at Kankuro who was standing awkwardly in front of him, unsure of what to do.

 _“Gaara?”_ Kankuro ignored the way his voice broke.

The younger brother wheezed, his red hair sticking to his forehead.

His eyes finally met Kankuro’s

“I thought I was too late.” Gaara whispered.

Something like a grimace passed his face as he swallowed. Kankuro could not recall what his brother voice sounded like. It was huskier then he remembered.

The young jinchuuriki stepped closer till his sweaty palms made contact with the older genin.

“My time has run out.”

Kankuro physically flinched back when Gaara unexpectedly clutched onto his forearm but he miraculously remained still when his younger brother leaned in closer. The sounds of laboured breathing brushed his ear in wheezing puffs and the heat rolling off Gaara’s body invaded his skin like slick mud.

“G-Gaara?”

Gaara leaned even closer till his nose was practically buried into Kankuro’s brown hair.

_“Listen carefully.”_

Kankuro’s eyes widened as words were hushed into his ear, soft and jilted. A whisper of sounds that made little sense to the puppeteer but the urgency pressed behind it was hard to miss.   

When all was said, the genin no longer felt the hot breath behind his ear.

He could no longer hear the pained wheezing or the firm grip on his arm.

Something in him became alarmed when Gaara’s hand slackened its grip and fell away limply by his side. Kankuro eyes widened further when he was suddenly burdened with his brother’s weight pressing down on his chest, russet red hair tickling his neck and a small bony chin jutting into his shoulder blade.

Then Gaara collapsed on top of Kankuro in a tangle of limbs – it almost looked like a strange embrace.

The puppeteer did not move even when several ninjas approached him. He did not move when the Kazekage crouched down to his eye level and watched both of them with cautious eyes.

“Kankuro.” The deep sound of his father’s voice managed to make the puppeteer look up. His father was watching him but his attention was undeniably on Gaara who was lost to the world.

“Kazekage-sama,” Kankuro swallowed, trying to bring moisture back into his dry mouth. “I –”

The sound of the blast still echoed incessantly in his ear while the thumping of his heart could be felt through his shirt. The genin looked down at the small frame pressed against him and finally registered what was off about the dead weight on him.

The rhythmic sound of _two_ hearts was missing. He could only hear one.

“ _Father_ …” Kankuro never addressed the Kazekage in such a manner unless in the privacy of their own home. The Kazekage watched his son’s face morph from shock, confusion, disbelief and even alarm in such a short amount time, and then his face lost all expression.

“…I can’t hear anything.” He looked up at his father and repeated again. “ _I can’t hear anything._ Gaara’s not breathing.”

The other ninjas began to shuffle with disbelieving alarm, a few even stepped closer to see if it was true. Kankuro on the other hand surprised himself by clutching onto Gaara’s body tighter.

The Kazekage reached to search for the pulse beneath his son’s neck noticing that no sand came to block his movements. His fingers remained there for a few seconds then stood up.

“Father?”

“Carry your brother and follow me.” The Fourth Kazekage looked at both of his sons. “We’re going home.”

Kankuro took a moment to gather himself then he looped his arms under Gaara’s small body and lifted him up.

Every step he took, his brother’s weight became heavier and heavier, and when he reached his destination, Kankuro buckled and fell.

III

_“Find the captain.”_

_“Destroy the source.”_

III

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all your comments, your support has me frothing at the mouth with glee.
> 
> CADEL


	14. Chapter 14

 

Gaara lay sprawled on a bed of leaves, his eyes slowly opening to gaze at the starless sky of his inner-world.

His alien sanctuary. A forest made of shimmering glass.

He did not move, he did not speak. His focus remained solely on the breath. Letting his mind collapse inwards and finding the smallest niche to let his soul hide, the child let all his bodily functions slow to a near stop, till his heart no longer beat within his chest.

He will wait.

He will wait for his siblings to complete what he could not. They will connect the dots and find the patterns left in the debris, because they were clever children. Loyal and clever children.

So he will sleep and slow down the caustic chemicals coursing through his veins till he could safely emerge again.

With that thought in mind, the jinchuuriki shut his eyes and curled inwards till he fell into a self-induced slumber.

III

Temari bolted through the double doors to the main conference room of her home with Baki-sensei at her heels, only to be greeted by a grim face jounin.

“Why were we summoned?” Baki asked bluntly. “What’s so urgent that we’ve been pulled from the field so suddenly without explanation?”

The unknown jounin bowed. “My apologies Baki-san, but I was not told any more information except to relay that the Kazekage wanted both of you in the last room on the third floor.”

The blonde kunoichi frowned in confusion.

“Last room on the third floor?” She absently turned to look at her sensei. “That’s Gaara’s room.”

With a polite bow the ninja disappeared. Temari and Baki quickly climbed the stairs of the Kazekage’s home and reached the ochre coloured door.

When they entered the first thing they registered was the massive ANBU detail.

For every length of wall, there were three ANBU diligently standing against it. The room was spartan and clean with very little furniture or clutter. It hadn’t changed since the last time Temari had seen it.

Temari recalled from her memories that Gaara didn’t have a bed in his room for the longest time. However this time there was a simple sleeping cot in the centre of the room which dominated most of the space, and next to the bed was the tall figure of her father. His presence was demanding, reaching every corner of the room and never failed to remind the kunoichi why this man had earned his title.

This time however, the Kazekage’s presence didn’t capture her attention at all.

No, the young kunoichi’s eyes immediately landed on the bed that had no business being in the room and on the body that had no need to be lying in it.

Her eyes widened as she let out a small whisper, “Gaara?”

Next to her, Baki hid his confusion well enough but his eyes landed directly on the Kazekage’s back, waiting calmly for an explanation.

“You may approach.” The Kazekage ordered without looking at them.

Both student and teacher advanced towards the bed, their footfalls quieter than needed and stopped when they stood on the opposite length of the bed facing the Kazekage. The entire room was quiet as a funeral.

A beat of silence passed till Temari tore her eyes away from Gaara and looked at her father in consternation.

“Father, what’s going on?” Her blue eyes landed on the disconcerting sight of Gaara lying motionlessly under the cool sheets. His stillness was unnerving.

Another stretch of silence passed then the Kazekage finally spoke.

“Approximately ten minutes ago my unit and I engaged in battle with the jinchuuriki.” He uncrossed his arms and looked out the small portal window. “The capture and detention of the jinchuuriki had failed. However a few minutes later we found him with your brother.”

 _Kankuro was there?_ Temari thought perplexed.

“Kazekage-sama I’ve finished my diagnoses.”

Temari shot her attention behind her and noticed the mild looking man near the table with a medical bag. She honestly had not registered the man had been in the room till he spoke.

The Kazekage looked over and nodded, “And?”

The man wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief and closed his bag shut with an audible click.

“It is what it looks like.” The medic’s lips were pressed in a grim line. “There is cessation of breath and heartbeat. Gaara-san has no pulse and pallor mortis has already started to sink in.”

Both her father and Baki-sensei listened without a single show of concern. Temari however blinked as a deep frown settled into her forehead.

“Wait… _cessation of breath_? _No pulse_?” she rapidly looked from her father to her sensei and back to the medic. “What the hell are you saying?”

Baki suddenly stated with shocking directness, “The jinchuuriki is dead.”

Temari could only respond with an incredulous look as she tried to wrap her mind around the impossibility of such words.

“ _Dead?_ ”

She blinked again.

“…That’s not possible.” She shook her head and gazed at her baby brother who looked like he was sleeping. Temari couldn’t take her eyes of the boy under the blanket. “He’s _Gaara_.” It sounded poor even to her ears. “People like him don’t just kick the bucket.”

Temari felt Baki place a firm hand on her shoulder. She didn’t know if he was telling her to stop talking or trying to give her comfort.

“And the cause?” Baki-sensei asked.

The medic-nin sighed. “I checked for wounds and checked toxicology but nothing showed up. There has been no sign of concussion or head trauma. The next line of investigation was disease and illness, maybe even a heart attack but there are no signs of those either.”

“Are you sure?” Baki asked.

“No.” he admitted. “I’ve only had ten minutes or so to come up with any deductions at all. All I know is that there is no breath, no pulse and circulation of the blood has ceased altogether. For all intents and purposes, the boy is clinically dead.” The man explained patiently. “Although sometimes, in cases like this, the heart can be restarted by something as simple as CPR, however we’ve attempted resuscitation but it had no effect. His heart simply refuses to work.”

“He’s dead?” Temari asked with a disbelieving tone. A part of her wanted to scoff.

The medic gave her a weary look. “He’s not breathing.”

“So he’s dead.”

The older man gave her a weary look and shook his head, “I didn’t say that. Normally I would but…” He stopped to wipe his forehead again. “I stretched my search into his brain and found that there’s still some brain activity. There’s very little and it’s decreasing as we speak but it’s there, so he’s not brain dead, however that doesn’t mean he’ll regain consciousness.” The man sighed and bowed towards his leader. “I apologize Kazekage-sama - medically speaking – I don’t know what happened to Gaara-san.”

Temari found herself walking closer then she placed her palm on Gaara’s wrist. She recoiled when his skin was warm, sickly warm instead of cold like she expected.

“He’s warm.” She observed.

“Yes, but its decreasing. Believe me, he had a lethal fever temperature when he was brought in.”

“His automatic defence had not come up once since his collapse?” Baki suddenly asked. “Even during the examination?”

Everyone gave the body a cautious glance as they reached the uncomfortable part of the conversation.

“The demon,” The Kazekage started. “It hasn’t taken over, nor has it shown signs that it has…ceased to exist.”

The medic bowed again and added, “I study the body and the chakra circulatory system but the boy is a jinchuuriki. I can’t give a satisfactory explanation for such a unique patient. I understand seals even less. I suggest calling upon Lady Chiyo. She will understand this better than I do and possibly give you further insight on the matter.”

With a polite bow and permission to leave, the medic-nin left without another word.

Another stretch of silence reigned over the room once more. The silence was only broken by the chaotic rumbling from outside the window.

Ah, that was right, Temari thought, there was still an attack going. She had almost forgotten. The world that had been created in Gaara’s room seemed so insular that she’d almost forgotten that he was not their only problem.

“Baki-san, please bring Lady Chiyo immediately.”

“Yes Kazekage-sama.”

When her sensei was gone, Temari looked at her father and found that the man was gazing at the small frame on the table next to the window. It was made of light wood and the glass seemed to be missing but the picture inside was intact and clear to see.

It was a picture of her mother. The Kazekage’s late wife.

Temari was not aware that Gaara possessed a picture of their mother, let alone kept it on display in his private quarters. It was an unexpected show of sentimentality. Perhaps that was what her father was thinking as well but it was hard to tell with his grim poker face. Next to the frame was more familiar image of Gaara when was he was younger and Yashamaru, their uncle, next to him. Their uncle looked very much like her mother. Temari always thought he had kind eyes.

There were two small flowers at the bottom of both frames. Temari didn’t recognise the odd asymmetrical petals but they were dry and brittle shade of light brown. Perhaps they had been white once.

“Father, what’s happening to Gaara?” Temari finally asked her voice too grim for her age.

The Kazekage closed his eyes then looked at his only daughter who stood by his side without showing any sign of faltering even in such circumstances.

“I don’t know.” If Temari was surprised by her father’s honest admission, she didn’t show it. The Kazekage’s eyes fell back onto his youngest son. “If he’s truly dead, we will have to find another jinchuuriki. Or at least try to kill the creature along with the boy.”

The kunoichi turned her head away.

“Where is Kankuro?” her voice was quieter then she wanted it to be.

The Fourth’s blunt answer was, “Medical bay.”

“Permission to leave Kazekage-sama?”

Temari just wanted to get out of the small tomb that used to be Gaara’s room. Her leader nodded and the kunoichi left the room and shut the door firmly behind her.

She needed a place to be sick in private.

III

When Temari arrived at the medical bay, she was greeted with an odd sight.

The room was busy as expected from the inflow of injured ninja and civilians; however the private section where she expected Kankuro to be was empty, save for the medic-nin lying on the floor.

“What happened?” she asked as she helped the poor man up.

“The boy’s nuts!”

“What?”

“He hit me!” The man grumbled out.

The medic-nin who was rubbing his head while pumping some chakra into his hands replied with distaste. “He chucked a fuss about being looked at but he eventually agreed to a basic check-up. Half way through the kid just tried to get up and leave. When I tried to stop him, he just growled at me and hit me over the head. Stinking ingrate.”

“Where’d he go?” Temari demanded.

“Like I know.” The medic mumbled then left the compartment.

Temari left the medical wards in search for her brother. Ten minutes later, she spotted him on the roof opposite of the medical centre.

Kankuro was huddled in some corner whilst leaning against the railing with his arms crossed. The grimace adorning his youthful features made him look like their father.

“Hey, where have you been?” Temari approached her brother but he didn’t look her way. “Kankuro.” She repeated impatiently.

“Hmm?” He didn’t turn.

“You attacked a medic.” She stated without accusation.

The boy shrugged in response. “He tried to stick needles in me. He got what was coming.” The kunoichi peered at her brother and sighed. It wasn’t hard to see the odd way his shoulders were bowed. “You’ve seen Gaara?”

Temari brushed her bangs away. “Yeah.”

They fell silent.

Temari propped her elbows on the rails and tipped her head back to look at the expanse of velvety night above. Her brother was in a pensive mood that didn’t suit him. The entire night had gone from bad to worse – out of the frying pan and into the fire. Temari rubbed her cold fingers and glanced at the strange pallor of her brother’s skin. Kankuro looked almost as pale as Gaara did. Their dead little brother. If there was something sad about that train of thought, Temari staunchly ignored it.

“Kankuro,” she suddenly remember what she wanted to ask in the first place. “Why were you following Gaara? Don’t think I didn’t notice you suddenly wanting to head towards eminent danger when usually you’re running in the other direction.”

He didn’t respond for a few moments then glance towards his older sibling, “I left because I was asked to.”

She gave him an assessing stare as she processed his words.

“You were asked to?”

“Yeah.”

Temari’s fast mind pulled the dots together in her mind and deduced an answer. “Our father asked you to spy on Gaara didn’t he?”

Kankuro nodded with a stern expression.

“He called me to his office a few days ago, you know, the usual update on how we’re doing in the team and all that. He started asking about Gaara’s progress and I told him that nothing was new…well except that Gaara’s been real weird lately.” The genin rubbed his eyes with the base of his palm. “Anyway, he seemed…concerned about something. I figured it was Shukaku’s recent outbreak outside the village but now when I look back on it, I don’t think it was.” He sighed again for the hundredth time and continued. “Basically he told me to keep an eye on him and report back.”

Temari frowned. “How is that any different to what we already do? We give bi-monthly reports all the time on Gaara’s behaviour.”

“Because those reports are just general surveillance.”

“And this isn’t? It’s just an assessment mission.”

“No it’s not. The Kazekage was explicitly clear that I had to get… _close_ to Gaara.” The genin wrinkled his nose at the words like they soured his tongue.

“Get close to Gaara?” Temari blinked.  “What? Like be his _friend_?” she blinked again.

Kankuro seemed aghast at the idea. “Are you nuts? Father isn’t that crazy!” her brother shook his head. “No, he wanted evidence of stability so Gaara can be used later.”

“Used later?”

“Stop repeating everything I say.” The boy growled in annoyance. 

“Used for what exactly?”

Kankuro scowled deepened. “…I think father’s planning something big. I don’t know what but its huge enough that’s he’s willing to use our unstable jinchuuriki in a big way.”

“So our father wants _you_ ,” she gestured to Kankuro like he was an insect, “To get _close_ to _Gaara_? Our homicidal jinchuuriki who’s never shown any inclination to even spit in our direction? That one?”

Kankuro stabbed his sister with his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously?” Temari now sounded amused and no small part amazed.

“That’s what I’m saying.” He replied with feigned nonchalance.

There was a pause.

Then Temari commented, “You’re a dead man.” The puppeteer’s fingers itched to cut the smile off the blonde kunoichi’s face. “Why did he choose you? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he didn’t decide on me but… _you_? Seriously?”

The genin crossed his arms. “He heard about Gaara’s hesitation to kill me during the massacre a week ago and wanted to exploit it as much as possible. He wants to see if it wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

“That’s kind of a dangerous assumption to make.” Not at all like their father to jumps to such a risky conclusion.

_Desperate._

Temari pushed on. “The Kazekage asked you to do all this because he heard that Gaara chose not to kill you during last week’s outbreak?” She paused and frowned. “Is that even true? Did Gaara really hesitate?”

 _No, not really_ Kankuro thought. If there had been such a moment, the puppeteer firmly left it out of mind.

He couldn’t compartmentalize that shit.

What both siblings were thinking was that their father had no qualms about killing his own children. Their father didn’t enjoy it, but they both knew he was a practical man. A ruthless man.

“Hmm, still don’t get why he chose you though, you’re about as subtle as bull and have next to no tact. You’ll piss Gaara off in about two minutes and I’ll be down to only one brother by the end of the week.” Temari added for a bit of humour.

“You’re already down to one brother.” Kankuro bluntly cut in.

They both fell silent.

Temari grimaced and rubbed her face.

A blast went off in the distance making the ground shake and heat flare in the air.

“God damn bombs! Argh and it was kinda quiet a moment ago.” Kankuro groused with a scowl. “When the hell are we going to find out how to stop these stupid things?!”

Temari frowned, her brow furrowed in deep thought as something occurred to her.

She counted with the internal clock in her head and looked over the yellow blaze far off in the distance.

“Nine minutes.” She whispered.

“What?”

“Nine minutes.” Temari repeated again.  “That’s how long these silences go for. Nine minutes then another wave of explosions go off.”

Her brother blinked. “Okay…and what does that mean?”

“I don’t know but…I keep thinking the explosions aren’t going off randomly. There’s a pattern.”

Kankuro knew his sister had a rather analytical mind that even he sometimes forgot was there. When the kunoichi caught a whiff of something worth deconstructing, she would tear it apart and figured it out.

“A pattern?” Kankuro repeated with confusion.

“If there’s a pattern it means it’s not random. If it isn’t random then there something to follow, a formula, a trail and that means we can figure out where and when these things will go off. It’s just math and probability.” She explained half-heartily as she continued to run off with her thoughts.

“Okay….” Kankuro trailed a little confused. “And what’s the significance of these nine minute gaps in between the explosions?

Temari scowled.

“I don’t know.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Well I guess that’s better than nothing. We’ve barely anything to go with except that they leave no chemical trace, no chakra signature and seem to love exploding out of people.” Kankuro drawled out bluntly.

Another beat of silence then Temari blinked and turned to her brother.

“What?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Huh?”

“What did you just say?”

The genin blinked at his sister and frowned. “Ah…that we’ve got nothing?”

“No.” she cut in sharply. “The part where you said they _explode out of people.”_

Both genin looked at each other without saying anything for a moment and suddenly they both swore.

III

The young genins ran back to their home in hopes of finding their father but were stopped before they could entre Gaara’s bedroom.

An ANBU was standing guard in front of their brother’s door. He adorned a fierce demon mask that looked like some kind of Oni, maybe a fox or some other kind of youkai.

“No one is permitted to enter inside.”

“Why not?”

“Lady Chiyo is currently conducting and assessment on the jinchuuriki. She’s not to be disturbed.”

“We need to speak with the Kazekage!” Kankuro spat.

“He’s not in there.” The ninja explained simply.

“Well where is he?” Temari scowled.

The ANBU said nothing which meant that he didn’t know or he was done indulging the two genin.

“Come on man!” Kankuro fisted his hands. “There are people _exploding_ out there and we need to pass on the information!”

The ANBU didn’t falter or react.

Temari narrowed her eyes. “You already know.”

After a beat of silence the ANBU spoke.

“The intel has already been passed on to Yondaime-sama.”

Kankuro turned to his sister and asked a bit wearily. “That should be good right? I mean it makes sense that I’m not the only who’s noticed by now, the attacks been going for ages.”

His sister’s expression didn’t change. “What’s being done about it?”

The ANBU hesitated and they figured he wouldn’t say anything but surprisingly answered a moment later.

“The Kazekage and Baki-san have assembled a team to tackle the issue.” Was his clipped answer.

“We should be helping!” Kankuro growled.

Gaara’s door suddenly opened and Lady Chiyo walked out, her usual aged façade was the same as always.

“Now why have these two genin decided to cause a ruckus when I explicitly ordered I needed some peace and quiet?” Her tone was less than pleased.

Both Temari and Kankuro bowed a little belatedly and greeted their elder.

“We apologize Lady Chiyo, we had assumed out father was inside.” Temari explained quickly.

“Well your wasting your time, he’s not in.” She glanced back to the ANBU to her left and gave him an arctic stare. To the ANBU’s credit, he didn’t flinch.

“Lady Chiyo, may I ask how our brother is?” Temari bowed again to the elder.

“Your brother is still the same. Were you expecting something different?” Chiyo’s words were harsh but not deliberately cruel.

The sibling said nothing in response.

The elder looked at the two genin and gave a heavy sigh. Her face soften by a small margin and she said, “His body has shut down, there’s no blood or chakra flow and his brain whilst showing signs of electrical energy is not responsive to internal or external stimuli.”

The siblings didn’t respond. Chiyo had to admit that they were taking it well. Well, the young blonde one was. Her brother on the other hand looked worse than the jinchuuriki.

 _What of Shukaku?_ They wanted to ask.

Another shinobi stepped out from the room, he was tall and rather average looking. His only outstanding features were his sharp eyes. Hawk-like and razor sharp. Temari thought he looked familiar but couldn’t seem to recall how.

“The rest have been recorded Lady Chiyo.” He handed Lady Chiyo a diagnostic scroll.

“Thank you Captain Seiichi.”

The captain glanced at the children. “The Kazekage’s children have been ordered to stay out of the fight for the duration of the attack.”

“What?” Kankuro growled. “We ain’t staying out of the fight!”

“Oh?” The older shinobi pinned his hawk gaze towards Kankuro. “Who will you fight? Your own comrades?”

The puppeteer faltered.

“If you’ve caught up with the latest information, you must realize that there is no one to fight. No dirty bombs to find in a convenient niche.” His turned to look out of the portal at the end of the hallway. The burning scape of their village lay beyond the dirty glass like a trapped painting in fiery glory. “Our enemy is our own shinobi.”

Temari watched as Kankuro bore holes into the man. She looked at the older shinobi and asked, “So what can we do?”

He looked at the kunoichi neutrally and answered, “Stay inside till the crisis has been averted.”

“What, so were supposed to stay inside like children?” the puppeteer sneered.

“You are children.” The man replied smoothly.

“We’re shinobi.”

“Maybe,” he gave Kankuro an infuriatingly calm stare that betrayed no emotions. “But not today.”

Temari cut in, “Staying inside won’t be any safer than being outside. Not right now when we don’t know all the variables. Let us at least help control collateral damage.”

Kankuro had to admit that his sister’s argument sounded better than his. The Captain didn’t seem to think so.

“No, I have been told to detain you if you try to defy the Kazekage’s orders.”

Then Lady Chiyo stepped into it before either of the genin could argue. “He’s already lost one son today. Don’t make him loose another two.”

There wasn’t much they could say to that.

Captain Seiichi bowed to the elder woman. “I need to inform the Kazekage of the latest developments.”

Lady Chiyo nodded, “Is there anything the Fourth would like me to do pertaining to finding the source of the explosions?”

The captain shook his head. “The Kazekage explicitly wished you to watch over the jinchuuriki in case the demon decides to show activity. We both know something is amiss with the seal. Its silence can’t be permanent.”

 _His name is Gaara,_ Temari thought absently.

“I understand. Thank you Captain.”

Lady Chiyo dismissed them all, went back inside the room and shut the door quickly before they could see Gaara’s prone body.

Another rumbled bled through stucco walls and made the windows shake. Temari braced herself silently and waited for the vibrations to pass through her body. It was getting bad.

Just as the Captain turned to leave, he was suddenly stopped by fingers gripping his wrists.

Both Captain Seiichi and Temari gazed down at Kankuro’s hand. It held the jounin’s wrist with vice-like force. The action was so abrupt and borderline rude that for a moment Temari had to blink uncomprehending at her brother. Captain Seiichi didn’t seem amused at all and glared down at the genin with his hawk-like eyes.

Kankuro on the other hand, wasn’t even aware of the two looking at him. Temari thought he looked at little glazed out, a frown marring his forehead, his mind somewhere both of them couldn’t reach.

“Kankuro, what are you doing?” Temari hissed with a steel cord of warning running underneath her voice.

The Captain was impassive as he waited for the genin to release his limb. Kankuro didn’t let go though. Instead his frown turned quizzical and he tilted his head.

“Did you know my brother?” he randomly asked. His voice had a strange tone to it.

Temari blinked.

The Captain didn’t answer but pointedly glance back down at Kankuro’s offending hand on his person. The puppeteer seemed to realise and let go of the jounin’s wrist.

The genin repeated the question again. “Did you know my brother?”

“Why do you ask?”

Temari was a little surprised the older shinobi was willing to entertain her brother’s rudely asked questions.

“He mentioned you.” Then puppeteer’s eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes still held a faraway look. “Well, I think it was you. You’re a captain aren’t you?”

“As are many others in the village.” Captain Seiichi replied neutrally. His eyes however sharpened with an odd shade of curiosity.  

“But none so close to the Kazekage.” Kankuro seemed to make something up in his mind. “I think I remember you.” The genin’s eyes zeroed into the man. “You’re the Kazekage’s silencer.”

Temari couldn’t believe how little tact her brother had, saying something like that so out in the open and straight to the man’s face.

“I would be offended if you didn’t remember little one.” The genin scowled at the man’s words. “After all,” the ninja leaned in suddenly almost nose to nose with Kankuro and a strange glint sharpened in his razor-blade eyes. “ _You_ were one of my targets once.”

Kankuro recoiled back, his snarl transformed into shock then back into a menacing grimace.

The Captain wasn’t smiling but there was a cold kind of amusement in the line of his mouth.

“Good, good, I had hoped you wouldn’t forget.” Had the man been capable of laughing, he would be at the moment. “Calm yourself genin, it’s all in the past.”

Temari watched Kankuro take a step back from the man, his expression folding into a strange sort of weariness that couldn’t be hidden by his growls.

Just when it seemed the puppeteer was going to retreat he stopped and clenched his fist.

“We’re not talking about me right now.” His words we pushed out between his teeth and his voice nearly wavered in the end. He glared at the jounin but refrained from physically throwing himself at the man. “Did you have any interaction with my brother? More specifically in last three days?”

He was back to this again?

The boy tried not to twitch as long seconds passed with the older jounin skinning him with his eyes. It was only a flicker but Temari saw the moment the man seemed to come to some decision.

“You grew some backbone since we last met.” He leaned away and straightened up. “Very well, I’ll answer your question but it’ll come at a price. If you think a shinobi would give information so freely, you’re more infantile than I thought. You will have to do something for me in return. Do we have an accord?”

Kankuro stood his ground and glared at the man but sucked in his breath and nodded. “Fine, I agree.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

The captain relaxed his stance and gave him an appraising assessment. “The other night Gaara-san and I were…huntingtogether.” The captain began crisply. “He caught it and I killed it. That’s as far as my interactions with the jinchuuriki extended. No more.”

Kankuro blinked.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He almost said theatrically.

“That didn’t tell me anything!”

“I answered your question.” The older man stated.

“ _Hunting together_? What the hell are you talking about?” Kankuro’s mood was getting bad to worse. The Captain was entirely impassive.

“You’re a shinobi aren’t you little genin? Look underneath the surface.” The man replied with little care for the fuming boy.

“What the – “

“Kankuro, that’s enough.” Temari cut in, her glare stopping her brother’s angry spiel.

“But – “

“Kankuro, we’re in a middle of an attack and the man’s a Captain. He’s busy and he’s indulged you long enough.”

Captain Seiichi gave the girl and assessing look the nodded to the both of them. “Remember the Kazekage wishes you to remain inside. Understood?”

Temari nodded for the both of them. “Understood.”

Without a glance back, the strange captain with razor-blade eyes disappeared. If either realised that the older man never mentioned what he wanted in return, they staunchly ignored it.

“So what the hell was that all about?” Temari demanded as she readjusted the fan on her back.

Kankuro rubbed his face. “I don’t even know.”

“Really?” she raised one eyebrow. “You seemed to be hell bent on hounding the man for information just a second ago.”

The boy sighed. “Yeah well, I don’t think it went anywhere. It was all riddle-like. I didn’t get any of it.”

Temari scoffed. “It was pretty obvious actually.”

Kankuro snapped his attention to his sister. “What? You mean you got it?”

The blonde shrugged. “Yeah, I mean they could only be hunting for one thing.”

Her brother blinked then scowled. “Well, out with it! Not all of us have your IQ you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think he was being literal. They were tracking someone and Gaara caught him and the Captain killed him.”

“What? Like an enemy ninja?”

“Obviously.” The kunoichi rolled her eyes. “Gaara only hunts one particular species Kankuro. Humans. Captain Seiichi is the Kazekage’s personal jounin captain and his right hand man. He’d only be hunting for a threat to the village. A ninja. Then there’s the fact that we didn’t hear anything about this so it was small scale attack. No actually, not an attack. Infiltration and from what I gather it was partially successful. Also, it was probably only one person. Then you can add in the fact that he told us himself that he killed the ninja.” She paused to think then continued. “So he actually gave a lot of information.”

Kankuro just stared at her sister with a mildly impressed expression. “Wow, ah…okay. So the ninja’s still here?”

“Yeah, I guess. They would’ve sent him to Intelligence downstairs for study then the morgue.”

As soon as she finished talking, Kankuro was already at end of the hall and racing down the stairs. The kunoichi stood there for a moment not entirely comprehending of what happened then yelled, “Kankuro, where the hell are you going?!”

III

Kankuro and Temari ran through the dark corridors of Suna’s intelligence division, each torch light on the wall blazing pass them in a blur as they delved deeper into the subterranean maze.

“Kankuro dammit!” Temari chased after her brother.

He brother had bolted out of the house and directly into series of complexes that led underground. He hadn’t stopped running. The blonde kunoichi reached for the boy’s shoulder and slammed him to the nearest wall.

The boy blinked as he rubbed the back of his head. “Damn, you don’t need to hit so hard!”

“Can you stop for a second and tell me what the hell is going on! Because whatever it is, if it involves going into the intelligence department, you’ll need me to get inside, so start talking!”

The boy looked shifty but eventually slumped against the wall. “I don’t know how to explain it okay.”

“Try me.” Temari barked impatiently. “I can only tolerate so much of your bull crap in one night.”

The boy looked reluctant to share what he was thinking but eventually cracked under his sister acidic glare. With one great sigh he crossed his arms and started to explain.

“I meant what I said. I don’t really know how to explain it because I’m still trying to figure out if this is what I’m supposed to do.”

Temari frowned at the less the stellar answer. “Do what?”

“Before Gaara,” the genin hesitated and continued. “ _Died_ , he said something to me.” He breathed out through his nose and rubbed his brow bone with a slight tremor in his hands. “He told me _‘Find the Captain. Destroy the source’_.”

“Find the captain and destroy the source?” Temari blinked. “ _Gaara_ told you this?”

“Yup, as he wheezed and puffed his last breath.” Kankuro added humourlessly. “Look, I don’t hold much weight to anything Gaara says but…I dunno, he was dying and he decided his last words to me would be _instruction_ to do gods know what.” He almost gave Temari an imploring look. “With all the crap that happened afterwards I kinda forgot about it till – “

“Till we were talking to Captain Seiichi.” Temari finished off. She gave her brother an assessing look then asked, “There’re plenty of captains from all different divisions and ranks in Suna. Why are you so sure it’s Seiichi-san Gaara was referring too?”

 _And why is your history with him so antagonistic?_ Temari wanted ask but decided to keep it for later. One secret at a time.

The puppeteer shrugged.

“It would’ve had to be the only captain he had interaction with in the last day or so. Then he told us all that stuff about capturing an enemy ninja on our soil a few nights ago…well that pretty much cemented it for me. He’s the only captain Gaara must have been talking about.”

“And you want to come down here and try to find the corpse of this dead ninja?”

“Captain Asshole ain’t gonna help us and Gaara’s dead. The only thing linking these two people is a dead ninja. I say let’s pay him a visit.”

Temari raised an eyebrow.

Kankuro scratched his head feeling less confident as the kunoichi questioned him.

“Look, I told you I don’t really know what I’m doing but seeing as we’ve been told to play baby and stay inside, I might as well humour our crazy baby brother and give his last request a go. It’s a lot more interesting than twiddling our thumbs for the rest of the night.”

The two siblings looked at each other without speaking for a few moments till Temari sighed and growled out, “Fine, seeing as we’ve apparently got nothing better to do.”

III

ANBU units and teams of jounins and chūnins began to scatter across the village to send out a series of urgent messages:

**‘ALL FIELD NINJA IMMEDIATELY EVACUATE TO THE OUTER WALL.’**

Baki ran through a series of hand seal and brought forth a wall of earth just in time as a torrent of flames and debris hit him. His nose burned of ash and something else with a more vulgar stench. When the wall came down all he saw was what was left of a bakery and the street was on fire.

“You!” he pointed to the chūnin near him. “Do you know any water jutsus?!”

The chūnin shook her head apologetically. “No Baki-san,” she paused to look at her burning surroundings and added. “But I can control a fair amount of earth to smother the flames sir!”

“Then do it quickly before it spreads!”

“Yes sir!”

**‘CIVILIANS PLEASE MOVE TO THE CENTRE OF THE VILLAGE. REPEAT. MOVE INWARDS TO THE CENTRE OF THE VILLAGE.’**

“Saki-Chan?”

The man gripped his lovers hand as his body began to revolt against him.

There was sun beneath his skin and the world was suddenly bathed in shades of caustic red and heavy grey.

“Shhh,” his lover hushed, her hands boiling in his own, “J-just stay still, I’ll try something okay? I’ll fix you up.”

He grappled onto her flak jacket and the hot wind seemed to feel like sandpaper against his cheeks.

“G-Get out of here Saki-Chan.” He wheezed out loving words and gripped the kunai in his hands. “Leave dammit!”

He pushed her away.

Then he disappeared beneath a brilliant bloom of light and fire.

It would have looked beautiful, she thought. If it hadn’t spat her lover back in her face.

**‘ALL JOUNINS AND CHUNINS LEAVE FOR THE VILLAGE EXITS IMMEDIATELY!’**

Captain Seiichi crouched like a hawk on the dome of a roof and sliced his comrade’s throat.

He grimaced and cut down another fellow ninja.

If the dead man’s face was familiar, he didn’t acknowledge it.

Then he moved on and drew another blade from his back.

_One for the sake of many._

**‘GENINS AND CIVLIAN PLEASE MOVE TOWARDS THE KAZEKAGE DOME!’**

The young girl shivered.

It was so cold and she was getting sleepy.

Her sensei was yelling at her from above but she couldn’t really tell what the man was saying.

“Come on stay awake!”

He applied pressure to the wound on her stomach but the blood kept spewing out in torrents of offending red. The man couldn’t remember it being that vibrant before.

“Medic!”

He pressed harder. A blast went off somewhere in the distance. He ignored it. Keep the pressure.

_Come on, stay with me._

**‘REPEAT. ALL FIELD NINJA LEAVE THE VILLAGE IMMEDIATELY. EVACUATE TO YOUR NEAREST EXISTS.**

The Kazekage and his personal unit of ANBU began to gather the civilians that had been caught in the cross fire. Picking up the strays and shielding those who were left in the blast radius, the ANBU units delegated themselves in accordance to the Kazekage’s orders.

Glittering dome of gold cocooned entire buildings.

The blast revibrated several times till it ceased all together leaving an inferno behind.

The Fourth stood with his hand outstretched as he orchestrated his dust to dance a most magnificent display of arcs and lines. The man smothered the flames and protected raw flesh from sweltering heat while levelling entire streets to keep his villagers safe.

He lifted his curtain of lethal gold and let it dance in a frenzy of shimmering light.

He watched as his village burned beneath his blistering feet.

III

“Tell me again how you manage to convince that guy to give us the log books?”

“Perks of being the Kazekage’s children I guess.” Temari answered.

The siblings hunched over a record book of all the bodies that had been brought in. It was almost embarrassingly easy to get their hands on the information. If a pair genin could extract village intel so easily then Suna really was going to the pits.

“Okay, from what I can tell, there have only been three bodies brought in within the last week.” Temari scanned the paper. “One of them was a civilian and that was death by poison. The other was a Suna ninja brought back from a mission so that leaves the last one. Body 11455. Jugular was sliced open.”

Kankuro peered over her shoulder. “Hmmm,” he squinted. “He was a foreign ninja. This must be him!”

“The morgue is just through those doors and look for his serial number.” Temari instructed as she continued to read the log.

Kankuro opened the metal door and entered the frigidly cold room. “Why isn’t there anyone down here? God this is so creepy.”

Temari saw a few notes on the side of the manila folder and pulled out sheets from the draws that had the same serial number. As she continued reading, her brows furrowed deeper till a heavy weight sank slowly into her gut.

A horrible suspicion began to eat at her.

The kunoichi pulled out more autopsy sheets and chakra diagnostic charts and spread them out on the table as her mind began to connect the dots. Little lines were being pulled together in her mind as her brain snapped everything together at lightning speeds. The picture her deductions had painted was worse than she’d imagined.

_Oh god._

“Hey! What the hell are you kids doing down here?!”

Temari snapped her eyes towards the door and found a medic ninja standing angrily by the door.

“Yo Temari,” Kankuro walked of the freeze room. “We’ve got bad news – whoa hey!”

“Well hey there little genins.” The medic-nin stalked towards them. “Are you going to explain why a bunch of kids decided to pay a visit to the intelligence sector without authorized personal? In the middle of a village wide attack no less?”

“Ah…well…” the puppeteer floundered and looked towards his sister. “Ah a little help here Temari.”

The blonde kunoichi was unresponsive and still looking at the documents in her hands.

Kankuro frowned. “Temari?”

“Kankuro I think I‘ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Everything!” She shot up out of her seat. “Where’s the body?”

Kankuro blinked at her sporadic behaviour but eventually answered.

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” He scratched his head. “The body’s gone.”

His sister stilled for a moment then asked with tightly controlled restraint, “What do mean it’s gone?”

“I mean it’s gone. It’s not there. I checked and the serial number didn’t match any of the bodies.”

“Shit!”

Kankuro was mildly alarmed at his sister’s panic.

“Temari, what are you worried about?”

“It’s the dead ninja. He’s doing all of this – the explosions, the infected ninjas, everything!”

“Wait, wait, the guy’s dead Temari. He can’t scratch his own ass let alone do all of _this_.”

“But he can.”

She pulled out the report written.

“Hey you can’t read that!” the medic-nin interjected but was immediately ignored.

“He can because he has a _kekkei genkai_.” She pointed to the paragraph noted at the bottom. “See here, it states that his body showed signs of being a carrier vessel to _chakra parasites_. There are at least three kinds of chakra parasite in the elemental countries but only one that manifest in a volatile state. I remember this because I went through a pyromania stage when we were younger.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kankuro added unamused. “You lit my hair on fire.”

“Anyway, the little creatures like to absorb charka and turn it into energy for their host. The host incubates and houses the parasites insides their own bodies, kind of like the Aburame clan.”

“Abu – what?” Kankuro tried to keep up with his sister’s spiel. “Wait so it’s these explosive-chakra-bug-thingies that are doing this?”

“That’s just it. The only _volatile_ species died out long ago. It caused too much damage and some even say it underwent a strange mutation that caused one of the worst chakra-sickness epidemics in history. It just ate away at everyone’s chakra coils like acid till there was nothing left. That’s why – out of fear - the people with this particular bloodline limit were pretty much systematically killed off.”

Kankuro breathed out. “…That’s heavy.”

Temari ignored him and ploughed on. “ _This_ ninja doesn’t have that. In fact, the species that his body holds is the most benign and well… _useless_ out of all three types. You can’t really even call it a bloodline limit, it almost just a fancy trick.”

The genin looked confused. “So…how is he doing this?”

She pulled out a small slip of paper that had someone’s very detailed drawing of a tattoo.

“The medic who did the autopsy drew this. It was found on the base of his neck. It looks like a tattoo but I bet you any money that it’s a seal.”

“And what does it do?” the puppeteer asked finally starting to catch on.

Temari bit her lip in thought then answered, “Look it’s just guess work but I think it’s making his body into some kind of beacon that’s keeping the parasites anchored and running their course – even after death.”

_This was the source Gaara was talking about._

Kankuro frowned. “Okay that makes sense but how are the people getting infected?”

“Think about it. They’re _chakra_ parasites. They like chakra and who here has loads of the stuff?” She paused, “Ninjas. Somehow our ninjas got in contact with the stuff, maybe they breathed it in, or the directly came in contact – I don’t know – but they began to swell and multiply and eventually released itself in a big way.”

Her brother clenched his fist.

“I don’t understand why they’re _exploding_ though. That’s not a natural feature to the species. Someone clearly modified it and successfully turned into a weapon.” There was disgust on his sister’s face as she explained.

Kankuro skimmed over the documents then slapped it back down on the bench. “So all we have to do is destroy the body.”

Temari nodded.

“Actually…” Both siblings turned to the medic ninja who was still standing in the room. “The body has been taken upstairs about twenty minutes ago to be cremated.”

The both blinked at the previously irritated medic ninja who actually seemed intrigue by their theory.

Temari rubbed the back of her neck then asked, “So…that’s it. We just have to sit back and wait till the people upstairs destroy the body?”

The medic came closer and Temari realised that she was much older then she looked. The older shinobi scanned over the work scattered on the bench.

She gave both genin’s an acidic stare that could eat away statuaries.

“You have an interesting theory.” The medic frowned as she thought through all the facts over then suddenly came to a conclusion.

 _“Oh no.”_ she straightened up and suddenly rushed out of the room.

“What is it?!” Kankuro yelled out as both genin rushed after the woman.

The medic-nin rushed out of the underground maze and to the ground level of the facilities with the two genins tailing her.

“We can’t destroy it!” she answered breathlessly as a panic settled over all three of them. “If the body is the source, then it will naturally have a larger collective of volatile material than any of our unfortunate ninjas combined.” She gritted out of her clenched teeth. “The explosion that will follow after the body’s destruction will destroy half the village in one hit.”

Temari blanched and Kankuro swore.

III

Baki was one of the few that didn’t evacuate.

In the back of his mind he remembered his genin students and hoped they stayed inside and away from the outer ring. They were at least safe in the Kazekage dome. _For now._

He passed by a few children huddled in the alley way and he grimaced at the tearstain faces. Gods, the night had been nothing but hell and so many were already gone. _Gaara,_ his mind supplied treacherously.

Baki moved inwards towards the Kazekage Dome as he ushered the rest of the population of Suna towards the safe zones. While he was jumping from roof to roof, the jounin caught sight of something strange.

It was his students.

Baki halted and jumped to a lower balcony to inspect what Kankuro and Temari was doing in the industrial furnace section of the intelligence sector. His bafflement increased even further when he watched Kankuro slam one of the workers against a wall and shut the burner off.

Baki nearly balked. What on earth were his genins doing with a _corpse_ out of all things?!

“Put it out!”

“Shut up, I’m trying!” Temari snapped.

She cracked open her fan and got ready to blow the flames out when Kankuro grabbed her wrists.

“No, don’t do that! You’ll just feed the flames!”

Baki watched as some medic with mousy hair produce a heavy towel from somewhere and began slapping the flames into submission.

“I knew I should have learned a water jutsu instead of the stupid flying paper bird trick!” one of them groused.

Baki decided that he wanted an explanation sooner rather than later so he formed some hand signs and let a small torrent of water stream onto the wrapped corpse. The flames died away in a matter of seconds.

The medic yelped and scurried back as the water soaked away the burning cloth.

“You two should be at home.” Baki stated as he jumped down from his perch and approached his genin. “Care to explain why I had to watch you knock out a Suna civilian and steal a corpse?”

“Baki-sensei!” Kankuro actually looked happy to see him which was alarming in itself. “God, are we glad to see you!”

“Medic!” The jounin barked. “What’s the meaning of this?”

The woman cowered a bit but quickly started to explain in a dazed frenzy. “I’m sorry sir but these two genin have stumbled onto a serious problem. If we don’t get the body out of here the entire area is going to -”

“Ah you guys?”

The unknown medic, Baki and Temari all turned to look at Kankuro who had tenderly peeled away to cloth that was wrapped around the dead ninja’s body.

“I think we’re too late.”

Whatever little patch of skin was exposed was blistering and turning an alarming shade of red. Baki had seen this; he’d seen this all night and suddenly understood the alarmed tone in his genin’s voice.

“Dude it’s gonna blow!”

Baki looked around and realised that nearly all the villagers had gathered around the Kazekage dome which was only minutes away from where they stood.

If the body went off, everyone would be caught in the blast.

Temari and Kankuro both looked at each other then back at their sensei.

“You two back away!” Their teacher ordered as he picked the body up.

Baki then slung the corpse over his shoulder before anyone could argue and catapulted himself up and over the roof tops.

The jounin pumped excessive amounts of chakra into his feet to propel him further and faster. The weight was heavy and the dead ninja smelt of smouldering flesh and charred bits. The heat was soaking through the cloth and into his flak jacket but his fingers gripped the corpse tighter. He wasn’t anywhere near the edge of the village but he couldn’t stop here, there were too many people.

He just needed to get into the open desert that laid just beyond the walls.

Pumping even more chakra into his legs, he entered the middle ring of Suna. The body began to smoke.

_The wall’s still too far away._

Baki gritted his teeth and tore his mind away from the train of thought. Keep running.

The burning chakra was doing something terrible to his muscles and by the time he passed the middle ring, his body was actually slowing down. The jounin’s mind began to falter as he realised that he wouldn’t make it and even if he managed to get the explosion out into the open desert, he himself would be caught in the blast.

But that was okay. He was a proud ninja of Suna and he had to admit, it was a rather spectacular way to go out. Burning glory.

The chakra in his legs began to fizzle out as he spotted the open desert just beyond the wall.

 _Just a few more metres_ , he thought.

Baki ignored the throbbing glow on his shoulder.

“Sensei!”

Baki snapped head towards the sound and his legs almost faltered in disbelief as he caught sight of who was running alongside him.

_Gaara?_

The jinchuuriki ran parallel to the jounin and each leap across the roof tops only brought him closer and closer. Eventually there was only three metres in between them as they ran for the wall and Baki realised it wasn’t the boy at all.

It was a clone.

“Give me the body!” the clone rasped out.

The corpse began to glow with new intensity and the cloth began to tear and rip as the supernova underneath readied itself for the final eruption. Baki’s fingers that were holding the corpse blistered and seared.

Gaara’s clone didn’t wait for Baki to agree or disagree.

It yanked the dead weight off his sensei’s shoulder and wrapped it in a cocoon of sand. Baki could only watch as Gaara pushed himself off the rooftop with meteor force that cracked the stucco beneath his feet and flung himself into the air.

Far away, Kankuro and Temari stood on the tallest tower to watch and pray their sensei would make it alive.

The Kazekage who set a protective barrier of gold around his people narrowed his eyes to the horizon where he watched a small figure catapult itself into the air.

Both ninja and civilian alike could only watch in terrible awe as a bloom of light exploded above, igniting the night sky on fire.

.

.

.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you look carefully the Fox ANBU had an appearance. Love that guy, we’ll be seeing more of him.
> 
> Thank you for the support. You guys keep me writing fearlessly. Truly.
> 
> Keep it Kool
> 
> CADEL


	15. Chapter 15

 

Terrorism from outside and a massacre from within.

There was much to do in the aftermath.

The morning after the attack was focused on the citizens of Sunagakure and finding places to house those who lost their homes in the destruction. The rest was panic control, and a great deal of placating and reassurances that Suna was not falling, and there would be no consequent attack afterwards.

The body collecting units were dispatched and given the solemn task of retrieving the corpses before they began to rot in the heat.

They tallied the death toll to one-hundred-and-nine.

On the second day, entire streets had to be closed off for infrastructure inspections. The clay, brick and stucco handled fire well and there was no damage in the centre of the village. Shinobi worked fast and civilians took the event in stride, despite their lingering terror and demands for an explanation. Suna was on its way to recovering.

The third day passed in a busy blur.

On the fourth day, a small riot broke. The shinobi incarcerated a total of seven civilians. The cause was unknown.

The fifth day brought an uneasy quiet.

The sixth day brought a swelling of whispers. Even the shinobi wanted to scratch an itch they were told to ignore.

On the seventh day, the interrogations began.

During all this, Suna’s jinchuuriki never woke.

III

“Exactly one week ago, Sunagakure was sieged by a most malicious and brutal attack.”

The clear voice of the announcer echoed across the large room with a heavy air.

“We lost one-hundred-and-nine Suna citizens - both shinobi and civilian alike.”

No one spoke as the scribe read through the report to a council of men and various witnesses. 

“We have converged here today, exactly one week from the attack, to come to a decision on how to proceed further with the best strategy possible for the welfare of Sunagakure.”

“This council begins now.”

III

“They want you in there in five minutes.” Temari announced.

Kankuro looked up from his seat and glanced to the double doors that led to the trial room.

“How was it?” he asked.

Temari shrugged and replied. “It’s everything you’d expect an ‘inquiry’ to be. An interrogation except they won’t admit that’s what it is.”

“What did they ask you?”

She sighed. “My version of the events I guess.”

“Everything?”

Temari pulled an annoyed grimace. “No, not everything – I hardly could even if I wanted to. I did try though…at the beginning but they just...” Temari slumped down next to her brother. “It doesn’t matter.” She sighed. “They took my intel well though, the one about the waiting period between each wave of explosions. Turns out my hunch was right.”

“Yeah? What was that all about?” Kankuro added.

“Remember how I was counting the silences in between? Well nine minute is the amount of time it take for a ninja to patrol one section of the outer ring to the next.” Temari unstrapped the fan from her back and placed it beside her. “The records were checked and the first wave of deaths were all the ninjas on patrol that night, which basically confirmed my theory that the parasite capsules were lodged on the wall of the outer ring. The patrollers had the highest exposure and were the first parasite vessels due to proximity. For the last three days, my theory helped the teams locate and destroy what’s left of the capsules.”

“Impressive, at this rate you’ll be chūnin in no time.” Kankuro added dryly.

Temari scoffed. “Well my future won’t matter much if things go the way they’re going. This village won’t be able to handle another attack.” Temari added bluntly. “Now it’s all just a game of how well our village can pretend to be strong when we’re probably one of the weakest in the elemental country.”

“Suna will bounce back, we always do.” Kankuro added with forced optimism.

“I sure hope you’re right –”

Temari stopped speaking as a group of ninja passed by in an adjacent hallway, their voices echoing against the walls of the building. Whether the sand siblings liked it or not, they could hear the conversation taking place.

“My back is giving out on me and I’ve got dirt up my nose from moving rubble.” another groaned.

“You think you’ve got it bad? My teams been burying and burning bodies left, right and centre…I’m never getting the smell out of my hair.”

“Did you hear anything about the kid?” someone whispered.

“Shut up!” someone hissed.

“What? It’s not like you’re not curious too.”

“It hasn’t woken up has it?” someone muttered in a hushed tone.

“The jinchuuriki?” a perplexed response came.

“Isn’t it dead?”

“Well they’ve moved the body underground from what I’ve heard. My cousin works the morgue and she told me the vessel isn’t down there. I mean…if it’s dead it would be down there wouldn’t it?”

“Just because it’s not in the morgue doesn’t mean anything.”

“I actually saw the kid before they moved him.” Someone admitted in a voice so low that Temari and Kankuro could barely hear it.

“Really?” his companions exclaimed loudly.

“Shhh!”

“It was dead! I know it was.” Another persisted. “I was there when he fell.”

“I don’t think so.” There was a pause. “He seemed pretty fresh for a dead guy. What’s it been? A week? Kid looked good…as far as rotting corpses go.”

The group of ninja moved away and out of hearing distance.

Both Temari and Kankuro sat in silence as they listened to the footsteps fade away. Gaara had yet to awaken and frankly, his state was setting people on edge. They were his siblings and even _they_ were kept in the dark. But the one thing that both genin knew with clarity, was Gaara was not dead.

A woman with a tight bun with chopsticks came through the door and approached the puppeteer.

“Kankuro-sama, the council is ready to receive you, please follow me.” She informed with formal politeness and began moving away.

Before her brother could leave, Temari reached and called him back. “Kankuro,” her brother turned around and waited. “I didn’t tell them about what Gaara said. I didn’t tell them that it was him who gave us the clues.”

The boy gave some thought and asked, “Why?”

“The same reason why I know you won’t say anything either.”

Kankuro looked at his sister and nodded before entering the courtroom.

III

There was something in Gaara’s mouth.

He gave it a lick, then spat the moth out before he accidently swallowed it.

When the genin opened his eyes, he immediately closed them. The burn faded after a few moments but there was a new sensation now, a prickling shiver that ran throughout his entire body. His eyes blinked the fog away and remained open this time as he stared at the figures surrounding his bed.

Seven fully-armoured ANBU stood around his cot, each with a menacing Oni mask devoid of feeling and blades at-the-ready.

“So you’ve finally decided to come back to the living eh?”

Lady Chiyo stood by the wall in the far corner, her old eyes sharp with interest and cool with caution. Gaara remained motionless under the bed sheets. 

“I have to admit, the last week has been certainly eventful.” The Lady continued as she approached. “And here I thought retirement was supposed to slow things down.” Her knees clicked as she sat down on the chair next to his bed. “ANBU stand down.”

The masked soldiers did not move.

“I said _stand down._ ” Chiyo repeated with acid dripping in her command. The ANBU removed their blades from Gaara’s persons. “Good.”

Gaara watched as the old woman turn back to him with aged eyes. She did not speak for a long time. In the end, Gaara cleared his sore throat and asked:

“Where am I?”

“Underground.”

“How long?” he rasped out.

Lady Chiyo pursed her lips. “Seven nights have passed.”

Suddenly, there were several people in the room, all rushing about Gaara’s bed with caution as they began to read his vitals and check his condition. No one talked, they just moved around him like he was some kind of leper. All the while, Lady Chiyo watched in the chaos, her eyes never leaving Gaara’s pale face.

Gaara could barely keep his eyes open without sharp needles prickling behind his eyelids. Hypersensitive. The boy could feel the joints of his spine against the skin of his back. The flesh on his bones felt tight and thin, the cotton bed sheets rubbed him like sandpaper and the chains on his wrist felt like immovable lead, obeying far too keenly to Mistress Gravity.

To put it simply – Gaara felt like someone had chewed him and unceremoniously spat him back out, only to go back in for a second round.

Gaara’s mortal pains were interrupted by a question.

“Gaara-sama?” a voice from his left asked quietly but clearly. It was a female doctor with a tight pony-tail. “We need to ask some questions to make an evaluation.”

Everyone one in the room waited for any answer. Gaara eventually nodded, unable to make much of a response.

They asked his name. They asked him if he knew where he lived. They had him count backwards and made him calculate simple equations that proved to be embarrassingly difficult. It took a few minutes but eventually, his doctors were satisfied with the assessment. Of course, all that talking had been more taxing than Gaara wanted to admit, because he was suddenly seized with an uncontrollable coughing fit.

Dry, gasping heaves strangled its way out of his chest and Gaara had to hold onto the bed rails to stop his hands from shaking.

“Someone get the boy a glass of water.” Lady Chiyo reprimanded.

The ninja closest to the genin quickly poured in a glass of water and tucked the rim to Gaara’s mouth, and helped the boy drink the refreshment. The boy felt the IV in his arm sting as he reached up to hold the glass, ignoring the suddenly tense ninja whose hand was still wrapped underneath Gaara’s own. The cool spring water soothed his throat in cool rivets, like an icy river over a parched desert.

After the tickle in his throat receded, the jinchuuriki looked up at the man that gave him the glass and said, “Thank you.”

It was not supposed to be a profound gesture, but the jinchuuriki’s gratitude was received with odd stares from the few occupants of his cell.

“If you’re done with the boy’s assessment, I’d like to have a word with Gaara alone please.” Lady Chiyo announced sharply. When they were alone, Lady Chiyo sighed and tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair, her eyes were glacial and narrow in thought. Gaara patiently waited for the elder woman to speak.

“You know,” she began with a light tone that belied the weight of the conversation. “I’m having an extraordinarily hard time sensing Shukaku.” There was a cool pause. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

Gaara lay limp in his bed and thought the woman still had sharp edges even now. It was a welcomed familiarity that warmed him a little.

“He is still here.”

“Oh I know.” She replied. “But barely. I had to dig deep to find the creature and even then, it was only a shade of the full thing. If that doesn’t pique your interest, then maybe Ichibi’s lack of appearance since your collapse might get your attention. The creature is neither gone nor under control. There is just a void that shouldn’t be there. It is more than a little alarming.” She leaned in closer. “So tell me Sabaku no Gaara, what did you do to the demon?”

 _I forced it into a temporary sleep out of sheer desperation,_ Gaara thought to himself. _And it’s barely holding._

The old woman was as blunt as Gaara remembered and her sacrifice had never been forgotten. That being said, there were still some things the genin could not divulge.

Gaara’s lie felt chalky in his mouth. “I did nothing.”

The elder’s eyes narrowed into points and the child knew she didn’t believe him, but Chiyo said nothing.

“Very well.” The Lady stood up, her bones making odd clicks as she straightened up. “I shall take my leave. I don’t know how long they will keep you here, but I expect they’ll want to take you to the council room soon. It’s best that you don’t fight them for now.”

“Lady Chiyo.” Gaara called out before the elder left, his formal address enough to get her attention. “My seal is breaking. It won’t hold much longer.”

Chiyo had never been able to stabilize the seal the first time round, he knew there had been complications and imperfection in the design. Not every village was graced with masters in fūinjutsu like Konohagakure. Suna had made do with what they had but it was not enough…not long term and Gaara had endured the brunt of these imperfections. She couldn’t help him but he wanted to try.

“Gaara my boy,” Her head turned enough that an only a portion of her profile showed. Her lips were thin and her wrinkles deep set. “It was broken from the start.”

III

Kankuro stood in front of Councilman Yuudai and fought the urge to scratch the itch behind his left ear.

But after the twentieth question, the puppeteer found the need to scratch nearly bordering on the ludicrous. He stopped his hand when he caught his father’s cool eye, and decided to endure for a little longer. The boy answered as cleanly and quickly as possible, without exaggerating events or getting off tangent.

“So,” Councilman Yuudai continued. “You found the connection between the bombs to the dead infiltrator in the morgue by…” the elder looked down at his notes. “A _ccident_? Is that right?”

There was a cold flush across Kankuro’s face but he answered with a steady voice, “Yes sir, that’s correct.”

“Your sister, Temari, also mentions it was just luck.” Yuudai looked up with a dry look that matched his equally dry skin and greying hair. “Why were you down in the morgue in the first place?”

“We weren’t…happy with being told to stay out of the fight. We went underground to find something useful to do while being out of the line of fire.”

Technically, it was not a lie.

“And how did that lead you to the morgue out of all places? Surely you and your sister didn’t just spontaneously decide to do a body count.”

Kankuro paused then answered calmly, “We were walking and found a restricted sector with no guards. From a genin perspective, it’s pretty much an invitation to go in.” Kankuro shrugged. “We just looked around and my sister just began riffling through the draws. It’s kinda what she good at. I can’t tell you what happened next, because I don’t understand half the stuff that goes on in her head, but she found something that seemed off. Then she followed up on it. Turns out that what we found actually held relevance.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”  Kankuro repeated.

The councilman sat back in his chair and simply looked at the genin with assessing eyes the shade of pale rock.

Then he smiled. It looked more stitched than the mouths on Kankuro’s puppets.

“Well, if that is true, you and your sister have a bright future ahead of you.  After all, it’s quite a momentous feat, saving your village.”

Kankuro just bowed at the comment and stood back up straight, ignoring the itch behind his ear getting worse.

III

The Fourth Kazekage watched as his council fought over which village to blame.

It was all very tedious and rather annoying.

“Enough.” The man commanded and the council room obeyed. “This infiltrator, what do we know of him? Which village did he have affiliations with?”

A man to his right with blue rimmed glasses stood up and dutifully answered. “The ninja wasn’t wearing standard shinobi uniform but the materials were made from cotton found and sold in Earth country.”

“Iwa!” An elder hissed.

“Those vermin have stepped too far! If they want war, we’ll give them war!” another man growled from the other side of the room.

“No.” The man with the blue rimmed glasses cut in quickly. “While his clothes may have been from Earth country, his shoes and weapons came from Water and Lightning country respectively.”

“So either all three countries are teaming up to take Suna down or the assailant really didn’t want to be identified.” An old councilwoman added. She twirled her fan dangerously calm in her withered hands.

“It’s most likely he was a rogue with no affiliations to any village and probably driven by a personal agenda.”

The Kazekage watched in silence as the council threw around theories. Eventually, the volume of the room rose to a buzzing level as the indignation and anger from the attack began to swell. The Kazekage once again ordered for silence.

“What of the weapon?” The leader asked.

“The explosives were an aerosol modification of the deceased ninja’s kekkei-genkai. It only manifested itself in the bodies of ninja with a particular level of chakra – chūnin level or higher. That’s why only the ninjas on patrol were affected before back-up came. It’s also why no genin or civilians got sick from the attack. They simply didn’t have enough chakra to fuel it.” The blue-glasses man noted. “It was not only dangerously effective but had been designed on a biological level.”

The jōnin commander on the Kazekage’s right side growled. “This wasn’t a heavy artillery brute attack. This was chemical warfare.”

The Kazekage leaned back in his chair at the head of the circular room and asked, “There are only a few in this world who have the ability to create such a weapon – none friends of Sunagakure.” He turned to the analyst with the blue spectacles. “Your team have studied the weapon, I assumed they have all been neutralised?”

The younger man bowed and nodded. “Yes, we analysed the pattern of the infected dead then created a map upon the collected data. We were soon able to locate the capsules hidden in the outer ring of Suna. They were immediately neutralised when the source had been destroyed.” The man paused. “The capsules left some trace residue inside and we were able to separate the chemical concoction that allowed the usually weak kekkei-genkai into something so volatile.”

A chart was handed to the three highest jōnin captains and the Kazekage.

Blue-glasses continued. “I confess I can barely understand how this was made but I understand that a key ingredient that made the weapon so aggressive was a substance called _Hin_. We found a trace oil in the lining of the capsules. It comes from a seed that only grows in Fire Country. The Boa plant. It’s harmless on its own but when mixed together with the right substances, the seed creates a highly reactive by-product.”

“Konoha?!” One jōnin muttered bitterly.

“Of course it’s them!” another yelled.

“We don’t know that, although I’d be happy to jump to a chance to fight those tree-huggers.”

“I say we demand a council with the Monkey King!” someone added derisively.

“Sarutobi will not easily bend to our wishes with such abysmal evidence.” Another counteracted.

“We have plenty of evidence!”

“Forget a meeting, we’ll demand war!”

The room was a mixture of righteous war demands and frustrated sighs.

The Kazekage watched with disdainful eyes as the room escalated into a shouting rally.

_“Enough!”_

The displeasure in the Kazekage’s voice hushed the entire room to a demure silence.

The man crossed his arms and sat back.

“Our relationship with Konoha has been deteriorating since after the war.” Their leader announced coldly. “This is only a natural progression of such a decaying ‘relationship’.”

Voices of agreement supported his words.

“However,” the Kazekage paused, “The Leaf village is just as likely as Stone, Cloud and Mist.”

“But they also happen to have two genius sannin that happen to have the skill set to create such a weapon!” The jōnin commander spat. “It is leaning more towards the Fire than any other element. It cannot be a coincidence.”

“True.” The Kazekage agreed. “But once again, there isn’t enough evidence to be absolutely certainty that it was Konoha who did this.” There was a pause then their leader added with some weight, “But it’s highly likely.”

It was not an answer they wanted, but the Kazekage spoke the truth. With such an ambiguous enemy, Suna could only fall back on assumptions. It was a frustrating place to be.

Also, it was not lost on anyone in the room that Suna couldn’t economically support a project as large as war. It could not be done.

Their wealth was almost as dry as the desert around them. 

III

Temari watched as the council progressed and found that she barely cared much for it anymore.

Being only genin, Temari and her brother wouldn’t normally be allowed to attend such a meeting of this magnitude, but their unusual involvement on the attack had warranted them a seat at the table. It was an honour. It was also very boring, more for Kankuro than Temari.

The meeting kept running around in circles and Kankuro was falling asleep by Temari’s side, so she had to periodically keep pinching him in order to prevent him from collapsing into the back of the Kazekage’s chair.

However the next words caught both Temari’s and Kankuro’s attention.

“The last topic to be addressed is about the second front we had to defend during the attack seven nights ago.” Councilman Yuudai announced with his gravelly and condemning voice. “We lost one-hundred-and-nine citizens – good and loyal shinobi of Suna and even some civilians. As unforgivable as the chemical weapon might have been, we lost twenty percent of our comrades to an enemy within our own walls.”

Yuudai paused for dramatic effect and Temari resisted the urge to scowl.

“Twenty-one of our own died at the hands of a boy that was meant to protect us. Clearly his performance has left much to be desired.” The elder continued. “We can no longer capture the enemy who caused this attack, there can be no manhunt to appease our rightful need for revenge, to avenge those who have fallen because that man is already dead.”

There were murmurs of agreement and approval of the man’s words.

“We don’t even have a village to blame! What can we do?” Yuudai stepped forward in front of the room. “I’ll tell you what we can do. It’s the only thing left to do. We must punish the one assailant we _do_ have.”

There was bile in Temari’s throat and ash in Kankuro’s tongue as they listened.

“The jinchuuriki must be dealt with. With any means necessary.”

The room was met with neither approval nor disapproval.

Whilst Gaara may have been a loose cannon that most wished to be gone, many also realised that getting rid of him was nearly impossible. A few in the room also remembered that the jinchuuriki was still the youngest child of their Kazekage, and should still be treated with respect.

All in all, the council had mixed feelings. Elder Yuudai on the other hand ploughed on.

“I know what you’re thinking honoured witnesses. It can’t be done. The vessel is too precious and too dangerous to be killed. But I have a solution.”

For the first time jōnin commander Baki spoke.

“Oh? And what will this solution be Elder Yuudai?” His voice was polite while his eyes were warning. _Tread carefully wise elder._

“Take the source of the problem.” He spread out his hands. “The demon.”

There was a moment where the words sunk in and both Temari and Kankuro realised what the man was saying.

“A new jinchuuriki.” Yuudai gave Baki and small razored smile. “Problem solved.”

Temari yanked her brother back down from his seat and hushed his growls.

Baki only responded with a cool blink then flat words. “That’s very…ambitious of you Yuudai-sama. Who do you have in mind as the replacement?”

“Someone more suitable than the current one, someone that can be trained and tempered to handle such power.”

Baki almost gave a bored sigh. “Someone such as your grandson?”

His words were met with an icy glare. “As a matter-of-fact, yes. My grandson has –”

“Your grandson has not been born yet. Are you willing to place such a gamble on a foetus?” Baki cut in. “What is to say he will not be worse than Gaara-sama?”

“Gaara- _sama’s_ situation is unfortunate, we understand that many factors that led to his jinchuuriki status had been…unstable. However, since then we have observed and studied the current demon vessel and learned what _not_ to do. The event of last week only supports my argument. Why use a broken tool when we can forge a new one?”

Temari and Kankuro looked at their father who was sitting at the head of the room. His stern face and crossed arms had not moved for many minutes as he listened in silence. Both genin would never argue in the middle of such a meeting but their father could. But as the seconds dragged on, it became apparent that the Kazekage would not argue against the murder of his youngest child. But of course it wasn’t surprising. He never argued before.

Oddly enough, someone did speak up.

“Now, now, let’s not be hasty. The boy isn’t even here to defend himself, surely you’ll keep at least some form of decorum for appearance sake.”

Lady Chiyo walked placidly to her seat near the Kazekage and sat down slowly, her bones audibly creaking as she lowered herself.

“Now let’s stop arguing like a pack of nasty children and focus on the important issues at hand. Like our crumbling economy and dismal military status, or perhaps the dangers of the other villages hearing about our weakened state, because I’m sure they already have. We are currently the weakest link in all of the major shinobi villages. Let’s not waste time on drivel yes?”

Her sharp tongue did not match her sleepy façade as she leaned back in her chair to assess the room.

Yuudai’s displeased grimace at her interruption was quickly covered by a shallow bow and smile. “Of course, but I should inform you all that the council has already voted on implementing the plan to have a new jinchuuriki. It’s all a matter of method now. Everyone in the room knows the project is an old one, and for the first time, the vessel is weak. The extraction is now possible.”

Chiyo clicked her tongue. “Too hasty Isamu Yuudai.” The elder woman almost rolled her eyes. “At least pretend to keep appearances, or have you lost the meaning of tact in your old age?”

Yuudai’s polite smile was dry and brittle. “Hardly Chiyo, it is you who has lost your faculties. It was your seal which was inadequate in the first place.”

It was an underhanded blow and Chiyo’s eyes sharpened to razorblades at the councilman’s words.

“ _Careful Isamu_.”

There was something positively unnerving about the two elder’s verbal lashing towards one another.

“Indeed Yuudai, far too hasty.”

The voice was like sandpaper, and came from the farthest corner of the room.

All eyes landed on the tall man in the grey coat, and silk turban wrapped around his forehead. He was almost too tall with a face so unremarkable, it was hard to remember it. It was his eyes however, that were the most peculiar feature. The man’s pupils were too large, almost doll-like and so disproportionate, that it nearly eclipsed the sclera of his eyes.

The whole effect made him look like a willowy ghoul.

“ _Masa_ ,”Yuudai nearly sneered derisively. “Really, I had no idea you were capable of leaving your quarters. I was under the impression you were chained down there.”

“My research demands time and dedication.” The mysterious Masa answered calmly. There was next to no inflection in his tone.

“I do wonder what would bring you out of your tomb Masa?” Yuudai leaned back in his seat and eyed the new speaker with some curiosity. “Last time you decided to show your face was when The Third wanted the abomination made. We all know that project fell flat.” The councilman tapped his chin. “So why are you here Slaughter Man?”

It was hard to tell when the room fell so quiet.

The tall Masa shifted and pulled out eye drops, and silently dropped moisture into his eerie pupils. He closed the cap then slipped it back into the numerous pockets of his coat.

“The same reason you’re here Yuudai-sama.” Disturbing large eyes now landed on the Kazekage for the first time and Masa continued. “The jinchuuriki.”

It was then that the door of the Round Room opened.

III

The silence in the room was stifling.

Every eye turned to the door and just watched. They watched as they pulled him in by his hands, chained and cuffed with chakra-suppressors. He was still wearing a dehumanizing hospital garb that reached to his calf and draped off one shoulder. They could see him limping with partially atrophied muscles, and the clatter of metal from his chained feet was the only sound that permeated the council room. Seven ANBU guards surrounded him like a human barrier made of demon masks.

It looked less like an entrance and more like an execution procession.

The jinchuuriki looked ahead without acknowledging the world around him or the numerous eyes stinging his skin. He was quiet and docile – like a lamb to slaughter.

When the boy reached the centre of the council, the static in the room snapped and everything became still.

“Welcome Gaara-sama.” Masa stepped forward and a smile made of brittle glass stretched across his face. “Hero of Sunagakure.”

.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The courtroom is a war zone disguised by sickly smile and acid politeness. And there is more than one player on the field.
> 
> Don’t trust the man with the demon eyes.
> 
> This chapter was born from my reviewers and carried on the backs of my followers.
> 
> I thank you.
> 
> CADEL


	16. Chapter 16

 

The sound of rattling chains danced obnoxiously in between the silence.

Several beats later, it was ruptured by wet coughing and dry wheezing. The jinchuuriki coiled into himself as he struggle to suck air in. If they could see Gaara’s shaking fingers and his failing limbs, they ignored it.

Yuudai let his eyes trail over the boy’s body and curled his lips in indignation.

“What is the meaning of this Masa? The boy was detained in secure quarters, he shouldn’t be here! He shouldn’t even be awake!”

Masa directed a barely glanced at the councilman.

“The senior council asked for his presence should he wake. The boy’s fate is being discussed, so it only seems fair he takes part in it.” Hushed out the ghoulish man. “This is a civilised council, not an execution.”

The other elder stood up, “I know the game you play Masa but I’m afraid it’s too late to negate my plans. As everyone in this room can see, the jinchuuriki is barely fit to stand, let alone continue baring the weight of being a demon vessel. Let us take that burden from him.”

Masa gave the man an eerie blink that looked more suited on an amphibian.

“How generous Yuudai-sama, for caring about the boy’s condition, but surely we must protect the hero.”

“ _Hero_?” The elder scoffed incredulously. “Your mind has left you Masa. The jinchuuriki is not a _hero_ , he is nowhere near it.”

The tall man’s head tilted to the side and he suddenly looked like a sharp-eyed bird. Predatory with talons sharp.

“Did you know, that out of the major four sectors of Suna, the southern part had the least amount of casualties and little to no infrastructure damage? The North, East and West took up eighty-percent of our death toll and needed the most dispatched ninjas to contain it.” Masa’s voice was flat like cold marble as he spoke his statistics. “Tell me council room, what made the south sector so different? Why did it have the least amount of casualties? What made it different to all the other places that had been under siege?”

A beat later, Kankuro answered out without meaning to, “Gaara.”

Masa’s swollen pupils darted towards the puppeteer and the genin flinched. A pale smile was Kankuro’s reward.

“Yes.” The tall man nodded. “The jinchuuriki never moved from the South sections of the outer ring. What’s the next thing about the South that makes it different from the rest of Suna Kankuro-sama?”

The puppeteer didn’t answer as he avoided the man’s eye, his skin crawling and mouth dry.

After a moment Temari answered for him. “The southern sector houses only civilians _exclusively_. Shinobi don’t live there.”

Masa gave the blonde kunoichi a most unattractive smile. “There was no back up in the south sector. No shield, no ninja to protect our civilians. Except Gaara-sama.”

An incredulous laughter burst from the other end of the room.

A man with a regal moustache sneered at the suggestion. “You think the vessel was _helping?_ Those fumes in that cage of yours has finally driven you mad Slaughter Man.”

Masa tilted his head and added tonelessly, “Of course he was helping.”

“He was murdering our own shinobi!” Moustache elder growled. “My son was killed by that boy, so don’t suggest that _it_ is a _hero_!”

A familiar story and a repeated rage.

It always felt awkward and frustrating when they lost their own to someone they were meant to callcomrade.

“If your son was killed by Gaara-sama, then it was because he was beyond saving.” Masa added with very little feeling. “That includes the other twenty shinobi that were killed by his sand. We marked and identified the uniforms and serial numbers from his victims.” With a heavy pause the tall man added, “They were all on the first rotation of the wall patrols that night. All of them were the earliest carriers for the chakra parasite, members of the first wave.”

“What are you saying?” Yuudai snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Masa gave a dead-eyed stare at Yuudai and answered, “It’s quite obvious. Gaara-sama was shielding the unguarded civilian sector single-handedly from the bomb carriers.” After a pause he added, “He was protecting them.”

The silence that followed was more telling than any loud cries of protest could ever be.

III

When Gaara managed to gather what little oxygen he could suck in, his ears finally picked up on the end of Masa’s speech.

_“…was protecting them.”_

Pins and needles assaulted his limbs. It was getting too difficult and his mind was barely aware of what was happening in the room. Also the sharp-eyed looks Masa kept giving him was something akin to Kabuto’s worst pre-surgery-bloodlust.

When the room exploded in protests and indignant scoffs, his eyes throbbed. Why wouldn’t they stay quiet? Someone yanked at his chain and Gaara was forced to look up at the council of men and women perched on their thrones. The man in front of him was saying something, but it was hard to make out the words behind the flood of static behind his eyes.

“He killed my son…”

“Loose cannon…”

“Shall we question the –”

“The boy is falling.”

Indeed he was. He couldn’t recall when he fell to his hands and knees, and there was still the incessant tugging on the chains wrapped around his wrists. Suddenly his vision was filled with large pupils, eyes too large and a thin face that was similar to pale stone.

“My apologies Gaara-sama. It seems you’ve not recovered enough for this.” Masa’s words were soft but devoid of anything sincere. “So I’ll keep this brief.”

The ANBU pulled Gaara up by his chains and all he could do was follow their firm manoeuvring.

“So hero,” When the man spoke, his teeth were bleached like shark teeth. “Is it true that you remained in the civilian residential district in the southern sector for the sole purpose of eliminating shinobi already infected by the chakra parasite as pre-emptive strike to control collateral damage and loss of civilian life?”

The man smelt like ammonia and bleach. It stung the genin’s nose.

When he looked up, the occupants of the room seemed like looming statues hanging overhead as they waited for his response. Vultures.

He swallowed and licked his lips and ignored the sharp pain in his throat when he spoke:

“Yes.”

A thin smile stitched across Masa’s face.

Had Gaara been more aware, he would have realized he should have said _no_.

III

The Kazekage gazed out of the small window and into the glaring white of high noon. The sounds of arguing and righteous indignation were thrown past his ears and against the walls of the courtroom.

The elders questioned his actions. Always, always, always.

How unaware they were of their own decay. Relics. Fossils. _Dust._ The council wanted his downfall. Their own alliances split and unwittingly digging their own grave.

A new leader they wanted and a new village they’ll never have.

Isamu Yuudai was an opportunist leech – chasing glory that belonged in fairy tales than reality. Misguided and woefully blind, chasing his own tail. So he let the man run and run and run.

The Slaughter Man eyed the jinchuuriki as _his._ How well he played the board. Flittering in the shadows and pulling strings from his cage. Swollen eyes full of questions that could never be answered, even under his scalpel. How well he mimicked gentleness. A moth with fangs.

And these were his advisors. The Kazekage closed his eyes and grieved.

The leader of Suna watched his son, wrapped in chains and strung up like a marionette. So much power in such a small pawn piece. Chipped and broken. He looked like his mother when he was pale and shaking.

Voices argued on.

Let them play.

III

The tall man ignored whatever chaos had ensued in the room and ploughed on.

“Step forward Baki-san.” Masa rasped as he moved away from the jinchuuriki.

The jounin did as he was told and stood in the middle of the room, only a few feet away from his chained student. He didn’t look at the genin once.

A scribe came forward and addressed to the council obediently:

“In the aftermath of the attack, there have been reports that indicate that the jinchuuriki was also the one to have…” the reader paused and looked at the page as if the words were crawling of the sheet. “ _Intervened_ with the attempted annihilation of half the village. These sightings have described a person matching the jinchuuriki’s description to have carried the explosive material high enough into the atmosphere, subsequently removing Suna within the blast radius.”

The announcer cleared his throat when a curious hum descended in the room.

“Baki-san, you were last seen with the parasite carrier. Are these statements true? Did the jinchuuriki neutralise the threat?”The announcer inquired. _Did he save us?_

Masa blinked as he added two more eye drops into his pupils. Excess liquid dripped from the side of his eyes.

The courtroom watched on as jounin Baki gave the question some thought, then huffed out a small sigh and answered with unmistakable clarity:

“No. They are not true.”

If his student looked at him from the floor with confusion or question, he did not know. Baki’s eyes never left his interrogators face.

“Do you speak the truth?” Masa asked again, his eyes sharpening. “Remember you are under oath.”

Baki gave the man a bland stare. “Yes. It was my clone I sent to carry the source into the sky.” He added monotonously. “My student was unconscious at the time and detained in his room whilst in the presence of several ANBU. He was not aware enough to have further involvement in the attack. Also, as his jounin sensei, I can vouch that Gaara-sama has never been taught to create a duplicate with a level of complexity such as a _shadow clone_.”

“Enough of this farce Masa!” Yuudai snapped from the side, thoroughly fed up with the line of questioning.

The ghoul did not respond to the elder’s complaints. “But you agree that the boy was irreplaceable during the attack? His role as a defender of the civilians?”

Baki shrugged.

“I don’t know. It seems very plausible considering the alarmingly detailed facts you’ve collected.” _Very detailed. How long have you been watching Gaara? How close do your swollen pupils track his every movement?_ “But like I said, I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

Perhaps Masa was attempting to peel Baki’s skin with his eyes because the narrow gaze was like a hot scalpel on a twitching nerve.

Baki blinked languidly and asked politely, “Will that be all Masa-san?” The man said nothing in response. “Because my student needs to be taken back to his quarters. The floor is an unacceptable place of rest for the Kazekage’s son.”

The jounin didn’t wait to be dismissed.

In an instant, he was crouching by an unconscious Gaara, whose eyes had started bleeding to the floor. The boy was lifted with one quick movement and then they were gone.

The meeting had come to an abrupt close. An unresolved ending.

Had they looked, the occupants of the room would have noticed the Kazekage’s seat had been empty for a while.

III

Temari and Kankuro followed the Kazekage back to their home, uneasiness coiling in their gut.

The kunoichi watched her father’s coat sway gently as he walked and suddenly asked, “Father…will Gaara be alright?”

The older man stopped, and then turned to face the children. But as he did, the henge melted away, revealing who was underneath all along. “I don’t know Temari.” The man answered.

“ _Baki-sensei?”_ Kankuro drew back. “Hang on. What’s going on?”

The blonde kunoichi blinked and then frowned at her teacher. “Wait…were you _henged_ as our father during the meeting all along?”

Baki sat down on the chair by the window and shook his head. “Only at the end.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I was ordered by the Kazekage.” Their sensei answered simply.

“Then where’s father?”

“He was disguised as me at the end of the meeting. He’s with Gaara right now.”

Temari’s frown depended. “He knew. He knew all along what would happen during the meeting. The power play.”

“ _Multiple_ power plays.” Baki corrected.

Kankuro scowled in annoyance. “I didn’t get any of that.”

“That’s because you’re dense. Don’t you listen?” Temari scoffed.

“Shut up! I was listening…I just didn’t get why everyone was being so…intense. It was like they were playing tug-of-war with Gaara. They all wanted bits of him.”

“Pretty much.” His sister agreed dryly.

“By the way, who the hell was that guy?” Kankuro pointed to his eyes while looking at Baki. “You know the one with the freaky eyes?” The genin gave a full body shudder. “Man he makes my skin is crawl.”

“Masa is a…specialist.” Baki answered neutrally.

“What does he want with Gaara?” Temari questioned with increasing suspicion. “Because that was some weird amount of attention he was forcing onto him.”

Their sensei didn’t answer for a moment, and then sighed.

“I need both of you to understand that our village has come to a point where normal etiquette and ‘fair play’ can’t be implemented anymore – not that it was ever really there considering our occupation. Suna is quite frankly so far gone, that everyone is grappling to keep it up. This creates factions and division within our own leaders and councils trying to revive the village. They all mean well, and at the end of the day, we’re all reaching for the same goal. Keeping ourselves alive.”

“But that’s illogical.” Temari argued, a small frown deepening on her brow. “Everyone is using different methods and they believe their means is more justified than the rest.”

The attack had struck Suna where it hurt the most.

Not only was Suna down on military power, but the cost for repairs had hit the village finances dramatically. But the true damage lay within the inner workings of the village. The elder council was questioning the Kazekage’s rule and he was now being pressed from all sides – politically, economically and militaristically.

The Kazekage was losing power and Suna was no longer a united front.

They were divided and cracked into multiple arms that chose to tear one another instead of lifting each other up.

“Yes.” Baki confirmed with something akin to exhaustion. “Everyone has their own plan and everyone thinks theirs is the best idea.”

 _They were all so desperate._ A ninja village that fell from an invasion or an outside attack made sense, and in a way, it was clean, preferable and oddly respected. But when a ninja village was destroyed ‘quietly’ through politics and poverty, the death was slow and diseased. _Shameful._ It was harder to recover.

Shinobi would rather burn to death then quietly drown in stagnating water.

“And this Masa guy?” Kankuro asked again.

Baki shrugged. “He’s just another faction trying to keep Suna alive – along with Yuudai and the senior council. While Yuudai wants to destroy Gaara and the senior council wants to cage him – Masa plans are more…experimental.”

“He wanted Gaara to be a hero.” Temari added with some caution.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that weird? What purpose would that serve?”

“The _idea_ of a hero is very potent.” Baki rubbed his temple. “I suspect he wanted Gaara to function as _more_ than just a weapon. If done right, it can change the entire mindset of a population. Imagine being the one to campaign such a hero. A jinchuuriki rehabilitated. Regardless of people reservations, it’s a very tantalising idea.” Their teacher crossed his arms. “If he managed that, Masa will become the hero’s new handler, his champion. He could control the crowd by proxy. Psychological warfare with a powerful reward.”

“You can’t be serious?” Temari raised her eyebrows. “That would never work. We’re shinobi, not glorified samurais.” _Not Gaara. They’ll have to find a hero in someone else._

“Normally no, but like I said, Suna is weak. Men like that can come out to play with the most ridiculous ideas and make them a reality.”

Kankuro chewed his lower lip. “Sensei…there’s something not right with him. They kept calling him _slaughter man_.”

There was apprehension in both his students’ eyes. He knew their concerns.

The teacher sighed and replied simply:

“He is an asset and Suna is in no position to be picky about our weapons.” Then with another accepting shrug, he added, “Every village has their own Orochimaru.”

III

When Gaara woke again, the sky was deep orange. Naruto would have liked the colour, he thought absently.

After a moment, he deliberated that it actually might be pink.

It was hard to tell through the spots behind his eyes.

He twitched his feet under the covers and was relieved the ache had somewhat diminished, although the pins and needles he could do without. The chains were gone, but the abused skin remained. He closed his eyes and felt for Shukaku. The containment was weak, bound together with breaking rope and hanging nails, but it was there. The cage still held.

When he looked down, he was covered in a sea of cotton sheets that smelt familiar.

Like tea, dust and paper.

His pale eucalypt coloured eyes blinked tiredly after a few minutes of gathering his memories of the rather disastrous day, then drifted towards the only other occupant in the room.

His father.

The Kazekage sat at his large desk by the window, reading an intimidatingly long scroll. The sound of pen on parchment scratched away regularly, followed by shuffling of dry paper. Surely the older man knew Gaara was awake, but he showed no interest in moving his eyes away from his documents.

The genin appreciated the time he was given to collect his wits. He wasn’t sure he was up for conversing.

So with a small hiss, Gaara propped himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. It took longer than necessary to realise the room was his father’s private quarters. Although, Gaara didn’t understand why he was was resting in his father’s bed instead of secure facility underground.

Seven minutes and four scrolls later, the Kazekage finally put his quill down and looked at his youngest son. Gaara repressed the sudden urge to look away. When the boy attempted to leave the bed, his father made a clicking sound with his tongue. _Stay_ he wordlessly demanded and Gaara reluctantly obeyed.

With slow graceful movements, the Kazekage reached for the small jug on the table and with steady hands, poured water into a spare cup, starting low then gradually elevating his shoulder to extend the stream. The movements echoed deft gestures found in habitual tea drinking. Once finished, the Kazekage walked over and slid the glass within Gaara’s reach. The genin decided to drink it without inspection. After all, it felt like a peace offering of sorts.

“I laced the water with _jyn_.” His father suddenly spoke.

Gaara nearly sprayed the water back out through his nose.

Thankfully he controlled his nasal reflexes and avoided showering the Kazekage. After a moment of gathering his wits, Gaara pointedly looked at the man in the eye and took another sip. He sorely wished he could sleep a few more hours.

When the genin emptied the glass, he placed it back on the table as if it were a warm cup of tea and smoothed away his discomfort.

“I appreciate the muscle relaxer.” A husky sound that was supposed to be his voice crawled out of his throat. “But I didn’t think I needed the alcohol as well father.”

“It loosens the tongue.” _It’s my turn to interrogate._

Several beats later, his father sat down, the man’s sharp eyes never moving away from his son.

“You slept for seven days.” His father suddenly informed. “Your body all but died. No breath, no muscle movement and next to no blood flow. It was only this morning you began to reanimate. Had you remained in your _sleep_ for a day longer…” The man paused. “I would have ordered to cremate you.”

Gaara felt ants trailing under his skin.

“But you’re awake and you’ve now put me in a very difficult position _musuko._ ”

 _Son._ The jinchuuriki never understood how his father managed to weaponised a word that was meant to be an endearment.

The Kazekage produced an object from his sleeve and placed it on the table.

“We found this capsule in your pocket.”

The gift Itachi had given him gleamed dimly in the light. It was rather unassuming now that he was looking at it without the fear of imminent destruction. Gaara picked the shell up and ran his thumb against the metal. How a vessel so small had caused such chaos and loss, it still made little sense to him. Even in his forced sleep, Gaara lived in a loop of watching his own hand extinguish the life out of his comrades.

 _They were yours._ He pushed the capsule away. _And you killed them._

He knew who did this.

It was a good thing that Gaara was not as impulsive as Naruto, because the world would never be ready for his blinding rage.

The Kazekage’s never looked away from his son’s face, cataloguing his reactions and analysing the tense muscles coiling in the genin’s back.

“You really were protecting them. The civilians.”

Gaara leaned back on the pillow and rubbed the knuckle of his thumb. He nodded.

His father looked at him in consideration, showing no sign that he was suspicious or surprised. However, there was a sliver of curiosity and confusion leaking its way behind the man’s brow.

“Why?”

Gaara opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it again.

 _Because they’re my people, my comrades and I’m their Kazekage._ The reasons were so obvious to him that it felt redundant to even ask. But Gaara knew that he couldn’t expect the people around him to understand who he truly was and what dictated his actions. They would have to know _everything_. And that couldn’t happen.

But for a forgotten second, a miniscule moment, Gaara considered telling his father all of it. Everything. Beginning to end.

_They were yours. And you killed them all._

His eyes grew hazy with indecision as he fought off the compulsion to – gods forbid – not _cry_ but something dangerously close to it. Had the blanket on his body always felt that heavy? Did his father always look so large? Has he always been this weak?

Gaara must have sat there ploughing through his own turmoil for so long that his father knew he would not answer.

The Kazekage sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“You’ve been moving on your own agenda. You’ve attracted the attention of not only me, but the other factions within Suna’s power chain.”

Gaara swallowed trying to regain moisture in his mouth. “Sensei told you what happened.”

His father gave him a levelled look. “Baki has informed me of your clone’s actions. I assume you’d left it with instructions before you lost consciousness?”

Gaara nodded, knowing it was pointless to lie. “I left it on the outskirts of the desert before I re-entered the village. It was a failsafe.” The genin looked down at his hands. “Why didn’t you tell the council?”

 _They want all of you._ “It’s not for them to misinterpret. And whether you’re a hero, murderer or a weapon, it doesn’t matter. They can’t have you.” _You are mine. You were made for something more than their fruitless plans of grandeur._

Even now, Gaara knew his father was playing a complex game against his own council. Hiding, lying, coveting secrets and collecting it like a horde of gold. The genin almost forgot how exhausting it was being the Kazekage. How tiresome it could become when you couldn’t even trust the people that wore your uniform.

“Masa thinks you’re a hero.” The older shinobi added bluntly.

“I’m not a hero.”

The Kazekage pinned his son with his gaze. “But you _did_ know about the attack before it happened.” He looked at the capsule on the table. “You found a capsule before the first wave even hit.” Had he not known the man so well, Gaara would have missed the suspicion blooming behind his father’s eyes. “You even had a clear enough idea on the weapons behaviour to think of leaving a failsafe. The amount of chakra in a jinchuuriki would’ve made the parasite a _supernova_ – you would’ve destroyed not just the village, but part of the desert as well. You knew this and you made actions to prevent it.”

Gaara remained silent.

The next moment, he felt a blade suddenly pressed under his chin.

His father was looming over him, the man’s hands like a vice around his throat. Blood gushed into Gaara’s ears and he read the accusation in his father’s eyes. _Even your sand does not behave as it should_ , he seemed to say.

“Who are you?”

His heartbeat buried itself behind his eyes, pulsing and cold. He opened his mouth to answer…but found his words obliterated by the trenches carved into his father’s furious gaze.

_“Who are you?”_

Gaara swallowed. “I’m not an imposter _._ ”

Fingers tightened and the blade inched closer.

The Kazekage remained impassive, as if doing nothing more interesting than reading those dry scrolls curled on his desk. As if he wasn’t ready to slice delicate tendons and pale skin.

“Father –”

“I know you’re not an imposter.” The man suddenly cut in. “No one can fake being a jinchuuriki.” His father’s voice was cool like steel underwater. "But despite it all…”

The kunai glinted in the candlelight.

The genin didn’t know where to look, for surely the alarm he felt was dancing on his face.

It was terrible, because Gaara knew what his father meant.

He no longer made sense to anyone. He was suddenly too unpredictable, unreadable, _undesirable,_ little volatile jinchuuriki. Even blind and deprived of the knowledge that Gaara was not even a native of their timeline…the Kazekage could tell his son was something else. His father was too clever. He could smell the _foreignness_ off Gaara’s skin.

But they would never guess. No one could ever know. Will never know that their instincts were right.

That Gaara was an aberration.

How well he wore his younger counterpart’s face, his body, his space, but could never hope to eradicate the man he had become in the future. How could he suddenly stop being a comrade, a brother, a mentor, a high commander of the Fourth Great Shinobi War? The man Gaara had become simmered beneath his skin, the indomitable heart of a Kazekage.

Who knew kindness was so hard to hide?

His father’s shadow loomed over him, closing the void between their bodies.

“I am the Kazekage and I have a duty to protect.” The older shinobi’s tone was almost conversational. “But when I look at you, I think it would be easier just to do as my incessant advisors keep telling me to do.” His father admitted quietly.

And what could Gaara say to something like that?

The Kazekage didn’t move the blade away. Instead he tilted the blade flat against the flesh, not positioned to slice anymore, but positioned to skin.

The genin held his father’s unforgiving scrutiny.

“You won’t kill me.” Gaara choked as the blade dug deeper.

The older ninja move his gaze from the kunai and directly into Gaara’s eyes.

“Oh, but I’ve tried so many times before musuko. Why not now?”

“You’re not going to kill me.” Gaara repeated in between gasps as the hand around his throat tightened.

“Have you forgotten the ANBU by your window? Every dark agent I sent to kill you?” He wasn’t taunting. It was just fact. “ _Yashamaru._ ”

The genin blinked up at the Kazekage.

Hollow guilt flooded the cavity behind his ribs. The name still made him bereft with child-like loss. His father was being unusually cruel.

“They still weren’t _you._ ” The boy winced.

Suddenly the Kazekage was pushing his weight onto Gaara’s weak body, caging him, suffocating him. He waited for Gaara’s sand to appear, forcefully poking and prodding a dormant dragon into baring its teeth. And when the genin thought his father would press no further, whatever scare tactic he was trying to implement would stop…the blade broke skin.

“ _Father…”_ Gaara choked.

Where had his strength gone? He hadn’t recovered from the parasite infection and his muscles had partially atrophied from disuse. No sand, no demon, no power. Left open and flayed out in his father’s bed. But Gaara could still move. Perhaps even manage to kick the man’s stomach. He could press the sensitive bundle of nerves in his neck and render him unconscious.

Even his weak thumbs could still muster the strength to gouge out his father’s dark eyes till they were empty sockets.

Weak and shaking, Gaara could still kill his father. They both knew it. So why…?

_Who are you?_

The genin looked at his sire.

Unlike all those times before, he couldn’t push away the swelling sadness left to fester in his gut when he remembered he had been robbed of both his parents. It rarely bothered him. But when it did, the fractures in his chest made it hard to breathe.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say.

_I’m your son._

Suddenly, without much warning, Gaara gripped his father’s hand and pulled the blade towards his own throat.

III

The Kazekage’s eyes widened ever so slightly when he suddenly felt Gaara’s small hands press the blade _forward._ Those small, pale fingers driving the blade further into his own skin.

Inch by painful inch.

His son never looked away. Never flinched.

“You won’t kill me father.” Gaara repeated again, saying ‘father’ like it tasted raw. His son pushed further.  

Cracks began to splinter the shell of sand his son always wore around his body. As the weapon dug in deeper, the skin eventually fractured like broken porcelain and fell away in small flaky shells. Then, without much fanfare, the kunai slid in the boy’s flesh.

Blood pooled in pearly droplets and seeped through the hairline gaps in his sand armour. The boy winced.

Slowly the Kazekage watched as he son reached for his father’s face. Gently, as if he was touching something delicate, Gaara brushed the Kazekage’s cheek and let it rest there. The touch was all wrong. Too soft, too careful. He was frozen.

Hot fluid continued to run down the boy’s throat, staining the older man’s blade a lovely red. Like liquid rubies coated in honey. Honey that smelt like rust and iron and tasted like desperation.

There was something wrong. There was something wrong with the way the boy looked at him.

 _“_ You won’t do it.” Gaara’s voice sounded like sandpaper against silk. The boy’s hands shook in small tremors. “ _So let me do it for you_.”

There was something like barbwire tightening in the Kazekage’s muscles. His hand felt ice cold underneath his son’s. _You look like your mother when you’re pale and shaking._

His son didn’t smile. But it was close enough.

With one quick movement, Gaara sliced his own throat open.

III

Another week passed with little fanfare.

Suna was rebuilding itself and its people were recovering slowly. They ignored the sluggish heat and pushed forward like tumbleweed, sturdy and robust.

They were people of the desert. They were indomitable.

Their mass grave was honoured by obsidian pillars and white lilies.

III

It was dawn when a bird landed on Temari’s window sill with a scroll attached to it leg.

She rolled it out while holstering her weapon pouch to her hip. She slipped her fan on her back and burned the message.

“Kankuro!” the kunoichi rapped on her brother’s bedroom door.

“Yo!” the genin answered through the door, the sound of wood and steel hammered away within his chambers.

“Did you get the message?”

Kankuro opened the door with his puppet on his back, his hood push forward and his face paint bright and purple.

“Yeah, I got it a few minutes ago.”

“Baki’s waiting for us at the main gate. Let’s go.”

III

Baki-sensei waited for his student as he watched the dust swirl out into the open desert. Dawn was the most agreeable part of the day for the one-eyed jounin.

“Sensei!” the puppeteer called out. “We got your message, are we really going on a mission?”

Their teacher turned to them. “Yes, we leave in a few minutes.”

“Finally!” Kankuro pumped his fist. “I thought we’d never got out of the village.”

Temari checked her backpack and counted the weapons in her pouch. “I’ve got everything and Kankuro’s already packed the food rations.”

“Good.” Baki looked back at the village. “Now we have to wait for Gaara.”

“He’s coming too?”

Their teacher nodded. “It’s been a week since you brother woke up, he’s recovered enough to join us. It won’t be physically taxing since it’s a diplomatic mission. Besides, this particular assignment would be more in our favour if we sent all of the Kazekage’s children.”

“All three of us?” Temari gave her teacher a thoughtful look. “They requested that specifically?”

“No, your father did.” Baki handed both his students sealed scrolls. “This is the mission description.”

Temari read through the scroll and frowned. “Wait…it says here we’re supposed to secure a diplomatic contract. What does it mean _we_ have to? Isn’t it already confirmed?”

“This mission is…a little unusual.” Baki crossed his arms and explained. “I’ll explain when Gaara arrives.”

III

Gaara had woken long before dawn, when the sky still looked like night and the stars had barely dimmed.

The jinchuuriki looked down at the letter in his hands and leaped out his window.

She was waiting for him on the swings at the old park.

Her twin braids swung around her face, making her look younger than she was and sweeter than the bread rolls she carried in her basket. Even her apron smelt like sugar and honey and comfort. She shifted her feet together, her elbows tucked in close as she nervously waited.

When her eyes finally landed on Gaara, she jumped back nearly falling off the swing. An embarrassed flush crawled up her face and burned her ears. She clutched the basket tighter to her chest.

“G-Gaara-sama!”

The jinchuuriki waited for the young woman to collect herself.

“Um…” She floundered, suddenly unsure how to proceed.

“Yes?”

The bread woman suddenly extended her arms, offering the hamper of pastries whilst bowing at the same time. Her eyes were shut tight and her cheeks ruddy red. “Please accept this offering as a token of my gratitude Gaara-sama!”

The genin blinked once, then twice, and eyed the basket of sweets like he didn’t know what it was.

The young woman looked up when she realised she had been standing there for a while without response. She looked at the boy then back to her gift.

“It’s...it’s for you.” She clarified even more flustered than before.

Gaara frowned and decided the situation needed more clarity. “Who are you?”

If he thought she was pink before, she now turned an alarming shade of cherry red. He suddenly felt bad, she reminded him of skittish mouse. Or a bashful Hinata.

“I…I’m so sorry!” she bowed again so suddenly that Gaara wouldn’t be surprised if she got whiplash. “This…this was a bad idea.”

She stumbled back, trying to make her escape without tripping over air. She eventually did trip over air and turned a new shade of colour that Gaara had no name for. She really did remind him of a mouse.

Gaara took pity on the poor woman.

“Wait.”

She stopped immediately. Her long lashes did very little to hide her deer-in-the-headlights expression when she peeked over the shoulder to look at Gaara who had moved closer.

The jinchuuriki crouched down and picked up the hamper and gave it back to the clumsy woman.

“I received your letter.” Gaara finally explained.

Something like relief bloomed on the woman’s face. ”Oh you did! I wasn’t sure you read it…it was so many weeks ago…” her voice trailed off awkwardly.

“You said you wanted to meet with me.”

She suddenly perked up. “Yes, I wanted to thank you!”

“You thanked me in the letter.” The boy pointed out.

“Yes but…I wanted to do in person and I wanted to give you this!” she pushed the hamper back into Gaara face once more, unaware how close it got to hitting his nose. “Please accept this as a token of my gratitude Gaara-sama!” There was a moment before she shook her head and muttered, “…I’ve already said that.”

Gaara looked at the pastries and tilted his head. What a strange woman.

“And…why are you thanking me?”

At this, the young woman looked up with wide eyes. “Why I’m thanking you…?” she blinked, her large doe-eyes confused. “You saved my life.”

Gaara frowned. “I saved your life…?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes! Back at the markets weeks ago, when I fell down, father always tells me I’m so clumsy that I make baby geese look graceful but he doesn’t mean it in a bad way.” She shook her head when she realised she was digressing. “Remember? You pulled me out of the path of a moving cart?”

When the jinchuuriki did nothing but blink at her uncomprehendingly, she felt her tongue go dry.

“Remember…?” she meekly hushed out again, her embarrassment coming back full-force. “Oh kami…um…never mind!”

For the second time that morning, Gaara watched her trip over herself trying to escape him.

“Wait...” He rubbed his brow. “I remember. I apologise, it’s been a while.” The boy suddenly amended.

“Oh!” a fluttering smile graced her face, it was a pleasing sight. “Oh…that’s good.” There was a breathless laugh, a bashful shuffle of her awkward limbs when she held the gift out again. “Please accept this gift, it’s all I can give to repay my life debt.”

She bowed deeply, this time with more grace than her previous attempts.

Gaara didn’t take it.

She looked up confused again. “What is it?”

“There is no life debt to pay, you can keep your gift and give it to someone who will appreciate it more than I.”

“Please. If…if the food is not to your taste then tell me what I can do.”

The boy directed a curious gaze. “Why does it matter to you so much?”

She leaned back a little and rubbed her arm. “I know it’s silly…people tell me I can be a bit… _overwhelming_.” The bread woman suddenly straightened and gave him a half-smile. “But my mother raised me to always give thanks where thanks should be given. No matter how small or large. And…it’s not much but all I can give you is sweets and pastries. Food is my life and I want to share it with someone who saved it.”

After a moment, the boy stated, “I’m a jinchuriki.”

She blinked then asked simply, “You still eat don’t you?”

Gaara pushed away his surprise and hid the pool of warmth back into the darkness of his belly. He assessed her continence and decided to soften his words. “It’s not appropriate for you to be giving unknown food to shinobi. Thank you, but like I said, it isn’t necessary. Consider your debt paid in full.”

With a respectful bow, Gaara turned to leave.

“Wait!”

In an impulsive move, the young woman shot her hand out to halt the boy, but a curtain of sand shot up and blocked her limb. It wrapped itself around her digits, caging it, and then crushed her fingers together in a tight hold. Gaara’s eyes widened and immediately retracted his sand away.

The boy couldn’t move his eyes away from the grazed skin and chaffed knuckles. Speckles of blood began to surface underneath her skin, making blotchy patchwork of bruised purple and red stains.

The woman pulled her hand back and cradled it to her chest.

Eyeing the swollen fingers, the jinchuuriki took a step towards her, but paused when she flinched back. It was oddly satisfying to see, as well as disappointing. With a sigh, Gaara restrained the urge to rub his forehead in annoyance at both himself and the woman. It had turned sour as he predicted, so with carefully orchestrated steps, the genin slowly retreated.

But before he could disappear, she blurted out, “I’m sorry!”

Gaara had no idea why she was suddenly apologizing, and from the woman’s expression, neither did she.

They both blinked and the woman repeated, “Sorry, ah…I didn’t mean to…I wasn’t trying to…” she flushed as she moistened her dry tongue. “What I mean is…”

With some sense of incredulity, Gaara registered that the woman really was trying to sincerely apologize to _him._ He continued to watch with curiosity as she fumbled with her words and tripped over her syllables.

The boy eyed her injured hand and cut in softly. “Get that hand bandaged.”

She jumped at the command. “O-okay.”

Cool dew green eyes narrowed at her in something that looked like anger, but wasn’t quite.

“And _never_ do that again.”

She froze at the ice chips in his voice that was both rough and smooth, both calming and terrifying. The baker swallowed and repeated, “Okay.”

With an eerily placid stare, the genin finally asked, “What’s your name?”

Startled, the woman quickly answered, “Mori. Risa Mori.” Her voice lifted in a little bit of pleasure at his question. “I’m the baker’s daughter.”

With one last nod, the jinchuuriki disappeared in a blanket of pale gold, leaving a startled woman behind him.

When Miss Mori looked down, she realised he took the gift with him.

III

The sky was a cool periwinkle, like cotton-candy exposed to too much air.

Dawn looked lovely from the grave field.

They honoured their dead with black stone, polished till they were dark mirrors reflecting the faces of the mourners. Sheltered from the sky under a dome of terracotta, the headstones lay silent in hundreds of rows, like soldiers waiting in line. Obedient even in death.

The earth on the new graves were still raw.

He closed his eyes with silent apology. They paid the price for Gaara’s weakness. He still dreamed of fallen metal protectors and bloodied flak jackets.

The jinchuuriki traced the scar across his throat.

The stiches itched.

The boy nearly laughed hysterically at the memory. How willing he was to carve himself open.

But his laugh died wretchedly in his throat when he remembered the fire in the Kazekage’s eyes. He remembered how quickly his father tightened his hand around his thin neck, clamping the gaping trench Gaara had opened, the same hand that had threatened to suffocate him. How easily he could press a little further and snap his spine. But with a grim line of his mouth, the older man silently pushed chakra into his son’s throat, weaving and stitching the muscle and skin together. Somewhere in between the pain and exhaustion, Gaara wondered uselessly when his father learned to heal.

Later, when they were both covered in Gaara’s blood and possibly catatonic with a muted kind of disbelief, the Kazekage pulled himself off his son and moved away.

Gaara remembered the lines of his father’s back when he reached for the door. It looked like the back of a man siphoned of all energy, tired and functioning on nothing but breaking resolve.

Gaara wanted to apologize, but his throat burned and he coughed out blood when he tried.

He remembered his father’s back.

 _“I don’t know what to do with you.”_ Then he left.

Gaara didn’t let anyone see him curl on his side and bury his face into his father’s pillow. “ _I’m sorry father.”_ And he meant it. He really did.

A messenger bird circled above him. A mission scroll attached to its leg.

The jinchuuriki lifted his hand and pushed his sand towards the new graves. With a silent flick of his wrist, Gaara moulded his sand at the base of every tombstone and solidified the letter into a solid plaque. Simple and glittering pale gold, it read:

英雄

_Hero_

 

The jinchuuriki bowed his head.

III

The Sand Siblings and Baki-sensei left Suna when sun peeked over the horizon.

“So what’s so special about this mission?” Kankuro asked while picking his ear.

Baki answered, “We need economic support, even more so since the attack, so it was good fortune that our sister village had announced they were open for a new contract with Suna.”

“That’s good isn’t it?” Temari chimed in.

“They offered the contract to another village as well.” Baki explained. “So we’ll have to convince them they should choose Sunagakure as a potential future partner. The other village they asked will be sending their own team to do the same.”

Kankuro frowned. “So it’s like a competition?”

Baki nodded. “Don’t worry about it for now. We have a long journey across the western wasteland, so conserve your strength.”

“Who is the other village?”

Three pair of eyes glanced to the far right where their smallest member was walking. Gaara stared expectantly at his teacher.

Baki answered.

“Konoha.”

.

.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My readers are my companions, my lovers, my soulmates and I adore you.
> 
> Give me reviews like you give me the flu. Always happy to get a little sick.
> 
> CADEL


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